


This is My Choice

by Kas0114



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Bucky still loses his arm, Coping, Depression, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Guaranteed happy ending, M/M, Multi, OT3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 174,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kas0114/pseuds/Kas0114
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky makes it off Zola's train, the railing still breaks, but Steve catches him. Instead, they end up on Schmidt's plane and fall together. 70 years later, and they must face the 21st century. However, between SHIELD's suspicious actions surrounding Bucky, and living with Tony Stark, that might be the least of their worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is My Choice

**Author's Note:**

> So, hello there, this is my first fic in this particular fandom, but I've been craving a long fic featuring my OT3 and I will have it, you cannot stop me.
> 
> Title is from the Captain America: First Avenger soundtrack, creative, I know... but the song gives me chills. 
> 
> I suppose that's it for now. I will try to update regularly and I hope you enjoy! (p.s. feedback lets me know that you did or didn't like it, so leave me a comment or a kudos or both.)

Bucky was hanging off the train they had boarded, both hands clenched around the quickly detaching railing. The wind was whipping past his ears, ruffling his hair. Keeping hold of the frozen railing was hard with his wind chapped hands and each time the train lurched, he lurched with it. One look below him had him gripping it harder, a spiral of fear spiking through him. If he fell into that ravine, he wouldn’t be climbing out.

“Bucky!” a voice cut through the wind and Bucky looked up, meeting Steve’s shockingly blue eyes. The punk was climbing onto the unsteady tear of metal that Bucky was hanging off of. The sergeant wanted to yell at him to get back in the damn train, not to worry about him, but he was shamefully mute with terror. “Grab my hand!” Steve shouted, freeing one hand to reach for his friend. Bucky let go of the railing with one shaky hand and reached up grabbing for Steve.  They brushed fingers and then with a final and resounding crack, the railing gave way. Bucky felt himself fall, heart stopping with fear, before he jerked, shoulder jarring and feet hitting the side of the train. He looked up to see Steve holding the other edge of the railing, having dropped down a few feet to reach. Bucky’s heart resumed  pounding in his chest and Steve breathed loudly, tears at the corner of his eyes before he used his unreal strength to lift them both up and back into the car of the train.

They rolled over, Bucky more on Steve’s chest than off, limp with relief. “Fuck…” Steve breathed, grabbing Bucky’s upper arms and pulling him more fully against his chest. Bucky gave a high pitched, breathless laugh in agreement. He felt Steve draw him forward, gloved hand cradeling the back of his skull.

“Gonna tell all of America that their golden boy swears like a sailor,” Bucky muttered into the blonde’s chest, glad to have something other than cold wind and snow against his face.

Steve snorted. “No one will believe you,” he said simply. Bucky could hear the smirk. Despite his levity, Steve pulled Bucky closer into his chest, clutching at his shoulder and head. “That was close…”

They didn’t have time to appreciate Bucky’s miraculous rescue, war didn’t allow time for recovery or reflection. They continued on after Zola’s capture, undeterred, storming the Red Skull’s base less than a week later.

Early on in the raid, Steve had separated from the Commandos, Bucky hot on his heels, leaving the others to clear the stragglers in their destructive wake. Then Schmidt was boarding some fancy looking airplane, full of enough explosives to demolish part of Europe and the United States. Steve jumped on and despite his orders not to, Bucky followed, leaving the rest of their motley crew behind on the ground.

Steve and Schmidt exchanged some banter, threw a few punches, Bucky stood in the back, letting Steve get his licks in before pulling his gun and firing at Schmidt while he was distracted. Steve looked back at him, as if surprised Bucky was there and Schmidt took the momentary distraction to pull some weird blue… cube out of a compartment on the ship. It glowed like the blue on the countless Hydra weapons they had encountered, the same glow that destroyed half of Stark’s lab when he messed with it too carelessly. There was a pulse of energy headed straight for Bucky, knocking him off clean off his feet and the gun from his hands. One of his arms lit up in blinding pain before he hit the metal structuring of the plane, his head snapped to the side and connected with cold metal, there was another bloom of pain. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Steve shouted in alarm as Bucky hit the metal siding and crumpled into an unmoving heap on the floor. He called for him, but Bucky still didn’t move, unconscious. Steve moved his attention back to Schmidt, the sooner he dealt with the Red Skull, the sooner he could check on Bucky’s condition. The fight finished quickly, Schmidt finally, literally dissolving away under the power of the cube before it fell from his hands and melted its way through the floor and into the ocean. Steve didn’t waste any time to see where it went, rushing to Bucky’s side as soon as Schmidt disintegrated. He collapsed to his knees at and cradling the unconscious man’s head in one hand while beginning to roll him over and up into his arms. Bucky didn’t stir, and Steve blanched when he rolled him over. Everything below just above the elbow of his left arm was gone, sheared clean off and disintegrated just like his gun, leaving Bucky bleeding profusely through the grated flooring.

He pulled Bucky over to the pilot’s chair, setting him gently on the floor before removing his coat, tearing off a sleeve and tying it around what was left of Bucky’s arm. He got it as tight as he could, sighing in relief when the blood slowed. He slid the rest of his coat around the arm and rolled Bucky over onto it to help maintain pressure on the wound as he slid himself into the Captain’s chair, assessing the radio and looking at the controls. Already from the distressed beeping the various meters were making, he knew their situation wasn’t good.

The control panel had been busted in the fight, but the radio still worked, so Steve latched onto the closest allied signal. “This is Captain Steve Rogers, Sergeant James Barnes is down," Steve spoke immediately, casting a glance at his unconscious friend. Another cursory glance at the controls revealed a hard truth. He was going to have to down the plane.

Peggy’s voice sounded on the other end, welcome and sweet, inquiring about his condition. “I’m going to have to put her in the water,” Steve said reluctantly, eying the busted windshield and then Barnes. Peggy protested, insisting there would be a safe landing. Steve ignored it, he didn’t want to hurt Peggy and there was no way he was landing this safely. There wasn’t enough time, nor were the controls functioning enough. Instead he said, “I have Bucky here,” in a tone that assured her that he would be alright. The sergeant stirred slightly and after setting the plane into its downward decent, Steve went to him, pulling him into his lap and lamenting that he had not stayed unconscious for Steve’s self-sacrifice.

Bucky moaned, shifted and blinked open his eyes, squinting against the light. Finally, they focused on Steve, albeit groggily, as the Captain moved his hand to once again cradle Bucky’s head. Bucky made to sit up, no doubt to see where they were headed, nose first into the ice, and Steve leaned over to block his view.

“Steve… What’s—“

There was the shriek of metal as the plane connected with the icy ground, shattering glass, and both Steve and Bucky were flung underneath the consol. From then on there was nothing but cold and black.


	2. Damn Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Tony Stark and the magical world of lazily cobbled together pseudoscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update because I may not be able to update on Monday, like I plan to. Midterms are a bitch. 
> 
> Are all my titles going to be soundtrack titles? Maybe? 
> 
> Warning for descriptions of frozen super soldiers in this chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter, and remember to let me know what you think with a comment a kudos or both!

Tony gets the call first, or at least he thinks he does. He hasn’t been on Fury’s bad side lately, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t have. It’s short, sweet and to the point. Fury’s voice is laden with strain and stress and Tony can hear people talking excitedly in the background, though he can’t make out what they say. This is layered just over the brush of wind in the receiver, causing a bit of static. Tony notes fix that in the newest batch of Starkphones he releases.

“We’re in the arctic,” Fury informs him. Tony gets a very hilarious vision of Fury standing stoically on a melting iceberg, coat tails stark black against the white of snow, flapping in the cold wind. “We found Captain America and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” He doesn’t exactly sound elated. However, Tony’s eyes widen comically and he is glad Fury chose not to speak with him face to face.

“You’re shitting me,” Tony declares. He hasn’t checked the calendar, but he’s pretty sure it isn’t April first. Fury’s silence on the other line cinches it. “Seriously?” He doesn’t bother not sounding excited.

Tony’s on the next plane out, which happens to be his plane, about an hour after the call and after Pepper has made him pack more than just the clothes on his back. He would thank her for it later, after he had thoroughly whined his head off at her about wasting time. The Arctic is _cold_ and not even Tony’s excitedly racing heart generates enough heat to keep him warm. He is loaded onto one of SHIELD’s armored all-terrain vans, they drive for a few hours and then there it is. The Icy remains of the fabled Valkyrie, Captain America and Bucky Barnes’s tomb.

They have to lower themselves through a hole in the top of the plane, him and a team of just-as-excited researchers. In the far corner are the rusted remains of the Captain’s chair and a wrecked console caked in ice. The glass of the windshield is cracked into intricate spider webs from the crash, literally frozen in time. His eyes are drawn from there to a group of fluffy coated SHIELD scientists, all picking away at the ice that is molded around the underside of the console. One of the scientists shifts, and Tony sees it, the unmistakable blue of James Buchanan Barnes’s winter coat and a snatch of the whitened skin of his neck. The rest of him is obscured, but it’s obvious he is on his side, curled around something shoved farther underneath the console. More than likely, Captain America.

Someone puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder and he just about jumps out of his skin. He had been too entranced to notice someone’s approach and sneaking up on him these days was a not so great idea. He turns and sees Fury standing next to him, eyes fixed on the shuffling scientists with their diligent and careful hands. “Think you can get them home in one piece?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Honey, you know I can,” Tony replies resolutely.

It’s a week of painstakingly slow chipping at the ice to free Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers and another two days of thawing in a carefully temperature controlled room before they can be pried apart without fear of damaging their bodies. Tony oversees the whole thing, carefully monitoring the two war heroes as if they were alive. If they weren’t so pale, blue and still, they almost could be.

Steve Rogers even looks relatively undamaged from the crash. His uniform, albeit being slightly torn in places, is pristine, as well as the rest of him. His eyes are delicately closed and his lips are tinged with blue, as the ice melts away from his hair, it dries in fine wispy strands of gold, perfectly undamaged. His body is slightly curved, still stiffly preserved in the position he had taken around Barnes, one arm outstretched, previously cradling the Sergeant’s head in the crook of his elbow.

Barnes is not undamaged, however. He is still curled in the direction of Steve and looks peaceful, but there is blood crusted on his face, painting a trail to the ugly wound on the side of his head, just inside his hairline. And his left arm is missing inexplicably, all the way up to a few inches above his elbow. They can’t find it in the wreckage, though the scientists are still looking. Tony spares time for the fleeting humorous thought that there is currently a team of SHIELD scientist searching historical plane wreckage for someone’s left arm. The great search for Bucky’s missing arm.

The hours tick by, Tony speaks on the phone with Pepper for ten glorious minutes of the three hours he spends monitoring the thaw. Even if she yelled at him for five, and then fussed for the other five, Tony is still grateful for the distraction. However, eventually the call is over and Tony has to return his attention to the two patriotic popsicles thawing in his specially built room. It is mind numbingly boring. Things continue on for another hour, Tony takes to systematically hacking through all of SHIELD’s firewalls that they didn’t ask him to build, just to prove he can, before his attention is pulled away by a soft ping and Jarvis’s voice.

“Sir, I think you would like to see this,” the AI says, pulling up a window displaying the heroes’ vitals. Tony had set aside a window to monitor them, possibly naively hoping that even just Steve, with his serum enhanced body, could survive being frozen for nearly seventy years. It was impossible, of course… but---

“No fucking way,” Tony whispers on an amazed breath as he spots a soft blip on the stats for Captain America’s pulse. It’s slow, maybe one every twenty minutes, and incredibly soft, but Steve has had a heartbeat for two hours. Tony is not so amazed by that as by his friend. Impossibly, Bucky has one as well, much slower, but there. “Jarvis! This has been going on for how long and you didn’t tell me?!” Tony admonished.

“My apologies, Sir. I did not want to alert you to a simple glitch, so I ran diagnostics before alerting you,” Jarvis rationalizes, and Tony spares a moment to think that Jarvis seems to have considered Tony’s feelings in deciding his course of action, before freaking the hell out over the much larger issue.

“Holy shit,” Tony says breathlessly, peaking at the two soldiers in the room. They aren’t breathing yet, but if things continue as they are, they will be very soon. “Holy shit!” he says a bit louder. “Jarvis, get Eyepatch in here!” he says. He enlarges the vital monitors, so that they take over the entire screen he’s working from. “And maybe a doctor,” he adds belatedly. If they’re alive, Steve and Bucky no longer need a mortician, they need medical attention. His objectives have switched from avoiding damaging the delicate flesh to keeping the two of them alive. Barnes especially needs help, breathing isn’t going to do him any good if his blood starts flowing and he bleeds out before they can get his arm taken care of.

The room is flooded with activity within minutes. People wearing hazmat suits with gloved hands gently look Steve over for injuries and the movement seems to boost the captain, as his heartbeat speeds up by another five minutes. By the time Tony moves his attention from the examination to his screen displaying his vitals. Steve’s heart has sped up to beat every ten minutes.

Luckily, Barnes’s is still slow as the doctors prod at his left arm and head, trying to apply first aid without increasing his blood flow. Tony has to look away as they pull their tools out and prep Barnes’s arm for triage. There might not be any blood… yet, but he has no curiosity regarding how one treats a lost limb. He’ll leave that to the people with stronger stomachs. Instead, he keeps an eye on Barnes’s vitals, telling Jarvis to alert him if there is a change he can’t perceive. They finish up in time for Barnes’s heart to decide to beat about a minute faster and by the time they are out of the room completely, Steve is taking spaced out and shallow breaths.

Fury coughs and Tony realizes the man has been there through the whole ordeal, but hadn’t said a word. “Do you think they’ll wake up?” Tony asks, because as much as he’s an expert on thawing human shaped things out now, he isn’t a doctor.

“They say the Captain will,” Fury says, narrowing his eyes at the blond as his chest moves up in another short breath. “They aren’t sure about Barnes,” he continues, a little more solemn.

“He’s not a super soldier,” Tony points out, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, the empathy for Steve’s possible situation. Surprisingly, Fury shakes his head.

“It’s the head wound,” Fury states vaguely. And Tony spends the next thirty minutes after Fury leaves trying to parse out exactly what that means. Then Agent Coulson shows up and he’s decently distracted by the first words out of his mouth.

“We’re going to move the Captain,” Agent says, nodding in Steve’s direction. “As soon as it’s safe, to a recovery room.” Tony frowns and chews on his cheek, contemplating arguing. Coulson, oblivious, plugs right along speaking. “We need to gradually integrate him, so that he—“

“What about Bu—Barnes?” Tony interrupts. Something tells him Agent’s plan is bull shit, so might as well cut him off there. He doesn’t give a shit what they do with Steve in this respect, gradually integrated or not, he’s missed seventy years of history, very turbulent, world changing history. Whether they break it to him now or later, it’s going to be shocking. Coulson stops and frowns, his eyes as he regards Bucky are much softer.

“We’ll set him up in a hospital room,” Agent decides, it sounds like he’s just throwing a plan together. “When Steve’s ready, if he’s not awake, we’ll let him decide what to do from there.” It becomes abundantly clear that no one, not even Coulson, believes Bucky is going to wake up.

“Stark Tower,” Tony suggests, remembering his project in New York, his potentially skyscraping project. “There’s room. We’ll set him up there while we wait for him to wake up.” He knows he’s being naïve by perpetuating that Bucky will wake up, but he honestly doesn’t care. He just spent two weeks of his time thawing the guy out. It’s just common decency to wake up afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Also I have a tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	3. Schmidt's Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain America wakes up and things are not as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title was hard to find, because I want the title to be relevant, but also the music to match. Needless to say, it doesn't match as well as I wanted. The song is from the Captain America: the First Avenger soundtrack.
> 
> Super long chapter this time and I’ve decided I will update every Monday.
> 
> Quick note for this chapter. I bumped Steve's awakening date to 2012 mostly because I'm impatient and also because of issues with the timeline for this story. Just keep in mind that the Battle of New York has not happened yet.
> 
> Let me know what you think via comment or kudos or both. I’m rather nervous about Steve and Tony’s interactions, so if you aren’t sure what to say, there’s something.
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter and I will see you next week!

When Steve comes to, he knows something is wrong. He’s in a recovery room and he sees a fan softly rotating as his eyes slide into focus. He stays there for a moment, watching the rotation and feeling his environment. He’s on a bed, no blanket, head cradled in a pillow. Everything feels too crisp, too new. His boots are still on; he realizes vaguely when he wiggles his toes. That is when he knows for sure there is something not right.

Then he hears the radio playing, the sound penetrating the panicked buzzing now in his ears. He knows this game, he realizes as it continues to play. He was there. He sits up, looking around the room. The window’s open, but the view outside seems fake, too stationary, and as if on cue, definitely on cue, a nurse enters the room. Even she looks out of place, her smile isn’t quite there, her hair is all wrong, her clothes, and even her movements are stiff. She greets him, synthetic and rehearsed. Dear God, who does she think she’s fooling?

“Where am I?” he asks, not bothering to hide his suspicions. She feeds him some bullshit about a recovery room, but Steve knows this isn’t common procedure. His boots are still on, he was lying on top of a pristinely made bed, brand new blankets so crisp they might as well have ironed and starched them. “Where am I really?” he asks. She looks confused, so he elaborates. “The game, it’s from May 1941. I know because I was there.” He lets her take that in, eyes going comically wide. “Where’s Bucky?” He stands, and the woman backs away. She fiddles with something behind her back and suddenly there are black clad guards rushing in behind her. Steve takes action immediately, using the bodies of the first two unfortunate souls to smash through the wall. Once outside the room, he knows it’s a set up. Probably by Hydra, he plows his way through several more guards, runs through crowded lobbies and emerges into a crowded and noisy street.

This is wrong too. The cars are all wrong, there are too many people, the buildings look familiar, but not. He keeps running, fighting the strange uncanny feeling in his chest. Finally he comes upon an area he knows, but also doesn’t know. The buildings look the same, he’s drawn them hundreds of times, but there are screens like from the theater all over the place, showing brands and logos, sleek and unfamiliar. The colors are astounding, and he is pretty sure it isn’t the serum that makes him notice, they’re just that vibrant.

And then there are sleek back trucks closing in. He is surrounded and the he is approached by a black man with an eye patch, like someone out of Bucky’s comic books.

“At ease, soldier,” the man shouts, before walking fully into Steve’s space. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to… break it to you slowly,” he looks genuinely apologetic, but Steve is too frazzled to really appreciate it.

“Break what…” he says. His attention is more on his surroundings than on the man in front of him.

The man takes a breath before explaining. “You’ve been asleep, Cap.” The familiar moniker sounds foreign on the man’s tongue. Just like everything else. “For almost seventy years.”

And isn’t that a punch to the gut? Steve takes his surroundings, fighting to keep his breathing even. He can’t really believe it, he has to be lying. This is something Hydra cooked up, complicated and senseless, a ploy to turn him around, distract him.

“You gonna be okay?” the man’s voice cuts through the fog that’s settled over him at the news. He is trying to contemplate a way out, but first…

“Where’s Bucky?” he asks, not bothering to answer the man’s question.

They do eventually take him to see Bucky, after they’ve handed him his shield, a mobile phone and led him to a private apartment in their barracks. They insisted Bucky could wait, but Steve doesn’t believe them. He spends his time ‘settling in’ twitchy and anxious, eying anyone who flits through his room or the hallway outside distrustfully. About an hour after he’s ‘gotten situated’ in his newly appointed lodgings, he is marching straight to the man with the eyepatch, Nicholas Fury, he is told. It seems like a fitting name. The man is fierce, but calm. A calculating and destructive force in the form of locks and keys.

Fury swiftly hands him off to a doctor in a white lab coat. Not much has changed then, he notes absently. And then they are walking through sterile hallway after sterile hallway, and as each room full of clean white sheets and snaking cords that connect to IVs and beeping monitors, Steve feels his stomach grow more and more tight. The worry and fear roiling in his stomach boils over into his chest and eventually consumes him by the time they stop. The room they pause in front of is one of the nicer ones, he notes absently. It actually has colors, the walls are a slightly less clinical off-white. His eyes are drawn to his best friend, laying prone in a bed, with soft, light blue blankets. There are tubes in his wrist set above the blankets, little circular contacts at his temples and cords disappearing into his hospital gown he’s dressed in. His shoulder, the one missing an arm, Steve thinks sickly, is wrapped in clean white bandages. He moves up to Bucky’s face, noting him pale, but peaceful. There’s a clean white bandage wrapped around his head and two thin clear tubes one under his nose and one disapearing into his nostril.

It takes Steve all of a second and a half before he is rushing to Bucky’s side and cupping his face. He gently fingers the bandaging that protects the wound on his head, before running a thumb over Bucky’s cheek. He doesn’t stir.

“Bucky!” Steve calls, voicing his relief. He is careful not to shout, however, Bucky never reacted well to being shouted awake. Steve continues to run his thumbs over Bucky’s cheeks, calling softly to him. This continues until the doctor stops him with a cleared throat.

“He won’t wake up,” the doctor says, very much impassively. At Steve’s stricken and confused look, he coughs and attempts to sound sympathetic, but like everything else, it sounds hollow. It’s only to keep him calm. “He’s in a coma. We think a combination of the head injury with the shock of the cold caused it.”

Steve turns his attention back to Bucky, fighting tears. “But he’ll… heal?” It comes out as a desperate question, but he hardly cares. The man looks conflicted, before someone else enters the room and for one jarring moment as he looks up, Steve thinks it’s Howard Stark.

“Hey!” the man greets jovially, apparently oblivious to the proceedings. “No one told me you were showing up today, Cap!” His voice is cheerful, but guarded. Obviously not completely trusting.

The doctor coughs again, a sound that is quickly becoming Steve’s least favorite. “I was just notifying the Captain of Barnes’s… prognosis,” the doctor reports to Tony. Steve can already sense that this is a point of contention between the two because Tony tenses and his eyes narrow.

“And what did you tell him?” he asks, voice losing its cheer.

Before the doctor could speak, Steve interrupts. “He said Bucky’s in a coma.” He doesn’t look up from Bucky’s sleeping face, gently gripping his hand. He swallows, still keeping from looking at the other two people in the room, focusing on Bucky as his vision mists. “But…” He has to swallow again past the knot in his throat.

“Hey, doc. Why don’t you leave?” the man asks, and Steve can hear the undignified sputtering of the doctor.

“I’m supposed to be accompanying the Captain—“ he protests, but the other man must do something to shut him up because he cuts off abruptly.

“Change of plans, now I’m his escort. Go get yourself a doughnut or something.” Steve can hear as the doctor huffs, but leaves and the click of the door as the other man shuts it.

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, resisting to swipe at his eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” the other man says stiffly, making his way into the room. “So how are you liking 2012, Cap?”

“My friend is in a coma,” Steve says blankly, still holding Bucky’s hand. He looks at the multitude of cords snaking into the gown and the tubes connecting to a host of IVs.

“I’m working on it,” the other man says succinctly and Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky to stare at him. “I’m no neuroscientist, but hey, I know a couple and the internet can teach you anything,” he says, eyes holding Steve’s surely. “I’m Tony Stark, by the way.” He offers Steve a hand, which the Captain takes. Tony’s handshake is firm, characteristic of a businessman, but his palm is callused. It’s an odd combination, which jars Steve along with the name.

“Steve Rogers,” he replies, crisp, but friendly. He lets go of Tony’s hand and looks back at Bucky, just as still as he left him. “Are you Howard’s…” he trails off, unsure of what the relation would be.

“Son..?” Tony fills for him, but the man has gone tense in the shoulders. “Yeah.” He eyes Steve for a moment as if deciding to say anything more. He must ultimately decide against it, because he switches the subject. “So… Bucky Bear!” he segways, walking briskly around Steve and towards the bed.

“You said you could get him to wake up…?” Steve says hopefully, ignoring the nickname. If Bucky could hear them, his mother once told him people in comas could, he is sure Bucky would get Tony back later.

“Of course!” Tony says prideful, he pulls a book-like object off the table beside Bucky’s bed and moves his fingers across it, muttering to himself. He catches Steve’s curious gaze and the corner of his lip turns up. “Never seen one of these, huh? It’s a Starktab.” He moves into Steve’s space and lets him see the… screen… on the device. It’s amazing and he takes it from Stark when he offers it, gliding his finger over the screen like he had seen the other do. What looks like charts move smoothly across the screen, just like if he had been pushing them around on a flat surface. Sometimes the page changes or he opens some kind of note.

“I invented it,” Tony says proudly, cutting into Steve’s exploration of the device.

“I could tell, it has your name on it,” Steve says, passive, but he gives Tony a look. “So you’re an inventor… like your father?” Steve acts distractedly, now focusing on the actual content of the charts. Some of them are nonsensical, but he vaguely recognizes blood test results, what looks like an x-ray of a skull, and a diagram of a brain with certain places highlighted in vibrant colors. Steve doesn’t have to be a doctor to see that these belong to Bucky. He is so distracted that he doesn’t realize Tony has gone quiet until he looks up to ask, if Bucky has a brain injury, why there are no injuries visible on his skull.

If looks could kill, the floor would be very dead with the way Tony is staring at it. The it dawns on Steve, rather slowly, that Tony doesn’t like his father. It’s petty, he doesn’t know the story, but Steve finds himself frowning at Tony. Howard was a personal friend and a very good man. He keeps himself from commenting, instead moving the tablet into Tony’s line of sight. Tony blinks and looks over at Steve, hands moving up to take it from him, but Steve keeps his grip firm.

“Is there another reason why he… won’t wake up?” Steve asks, flicking his finger to bring up the picture of Bucky’s skull. The screen is small, but the bone looks undamaged to  Steve’s untrained eyes. “His skull isn’t even cracked.”

Tony immediately brightens at this. “Look at you! Already working the starktab and you haven’t even read the manual!” Tony says, though his voice comes off less congratulatory and more demeaning.

“Isn’t exactly complicated,” Steve mutters indignantly, shoving the device none-too-gently into Tony’s hands. “Anyway, his skull, it isn’t damaged, at least not that I can see,” he prompts.

“No, that’s what I’m saying,” Tony says, as if picking up a conversation Steve and he had been having a couple hours prior. He flicks his finger over the pages until he comes across the diagrams of the brain. “See, there isn’t even any swelling. If he’s benched because of a brain injury, why isn’t there an actual injury?” The question is obviously rhetorical, as Tony keeps on rambling. “Despite still running a little cold and some unknown agents in his blood, he’s in peak physical condition—which is a miracle in and of itself, by the way. When you pick your sidekicks, you pick them.” He doesn’t allow Steve to interrupt and protest that Bucky is not, in fact, his sidekick. “I mean… there’s no reason for him still to be unconscious.”

“He woke up before I crashed the plane,” Steve interjects, before Tony can continue much longer. “He hit his head pretty hard, he may have been concussed, but he woke up and he recognized me.”

Tony pauses at that and shoves his Starktab into Steve’s hands again, striding over to the stand that is holding Bucky’s IVs and examines the bags of medication. “How much you want to bet they’re drugging him with something?” He mutters conspiratorially. Steve doesn’t want to believe that, but he can’t deny it’s a possibility. Tony turns to him, opening his mouth to speak, but is interrupted when the door to the room opens again. Surprisingly, Tony’s eyes light up light up like all his questions have been answered. Without even waiting for the dark suited agent to introduce himself, Tony claps his hands.

“Good! You’re just in time. I’m ready to move Barnes here, to Stark Tower. The medical floor is fully powered and staffed and I’m sure Steve would like him to be in a place that’s a little more accessible than a high security medical wing in a secret government facility.” He gives Steve a meaningful look. “What do you say, Cap? Visiting hours are always and I have a guest apartment already furnished. Utilities are free.”

Again, Steve doesn’t want to believe SHIELD is against them, that Fury is more sinister than he thought… that they’re drugging Bucky to keep him asleep, but it seems to be the only logical option. He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Tony and the agent arguing.

“He isn’t stable enough to move!” the man says firmly.

“That is bullshit, and you know it!” Tony accuses in return. “There’s no swelling in his brain, his neck is fine, no broken bones. Beside his missing arm, he’s at the peak of health. Hell, maybe even more with the way his arm is healing!” The agent stiffens and Tony catches it immediately, along with Steve. Something here isn’t right. “Steve here has medical power of attorney over Barnes, he can pull him out AMA if he has to,” Tony says, obviously aiming to end the argument. Steve is more surprised Tony knows that.

“That paperwork is outdated, Shield overrides it,” the agent persists, a canned, prepared response.

Tony pauses, mouth thinning into a grim line. “How well do you think that’ll hold up in court?” he says, deadly calm and idle with curiosity.

The agent narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t win, not even with the best lawyers.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him, challenging. “Let’s say that’s not utter horse shit,” he begins. “I could still bring one hell of a pr mess down on you,” he threatens. The agent tenses that much more. “Captain America comes home and is denied custody of his comatose best friend? How outraged do you think people will be? Especially when they find out the people holding Bucky are Shield, an organization co-founded by his wartime sweetheart.”

Steve winces slightly as what he thought were more private pieces of information were laid bare in the hospital room. Although he marvels at the thought of Peggy founding Shield. It is at that point that he notices both the doctor and Tony looking at him expectantly.

“I’m with Stark, sir,” he says stiffly, but politely. “Bucky woke up before the crash and I made sure he didn’t hit his head during. Whatever reason he isn’t waking up, it isn’t the head wound.” He made clear that he did not necessarily trust the doctor.

“Are you accusing Shield, Captain?” the agent asks, a hint of a threat in his voice.

Steve is not deterred; he has dealt with people like this man before, who held much more power over him. “I’m just making an observation, sir,” he replies, not unkindly. “I think we should move Bucky to… Stark Tower…” He gets caught on the name of the building, it seems tacky and tasteless to him, and doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but he continues on none-the-less. “If the doctors at Shield can’t help him, maybe the ones at the tower can.” This, he punctuates with a knowing look at the agent, who, to Steve’s pleasure, looks entirely offended.

“Are you insinuating that we are not capable of caring for our patient?” the agent asks, indignant.

Steve smiles softly. “Of course not. I just don’t think you can provide the kind of care Bucky needs.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Tony grinning the widest shit-eating grin he has ever seen. The man likes to win. Steve can respect that, though he mourns that he may have just fed the other’s ego to bursting.

The agent grits his teeth, obviously angry. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because he just lost the argument or he just lost Bucky. Either way, he will be glad to have his friend out of this place. Fury seemed like a stand-up guy, but some people here… well, there was something not quite right about them.

“I’ll go let my superior kno—“ the agent begins, but Tony is quick to cut him off.

“No need. I’ll just call Fury.” He moves over and places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It’s jarring and Steve has to resist the urge to push the man off of him, not in the mood for such a friendly touch so soon, especially with Tony leaning a good amount of his weight on him. “It’s quicker that way,” Tony continues, completely ignoring the way Steve tenses at his touch.

At that point, the agent storms off, leaving the two alone in Bucky’s room. Steve slips out of Tony’s grip, who recovers quite well, considering how fully he was leaning on the Captain. Steve sinks down next to Bucky’s bed again.

“Don’t worry about it, Cap,” Tony says from behind him. “We’ll get him out of here, get him off the IVs, maybe run a few blood tests. He’ll wake up in no time.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to reply, already fishing some kind of flat device out of his pocket. It looks like the Starktab, but smaller and Tony holds it up to his ear like a telephone. “Jarvis, call Fury,” he instructs, and then after a few moments, launches into an animated conversation that teaches Steve several nicknames for Fury that he will probably never use.

After that, it’s tough. They’re battling half of Shield to get Bucky out, but after three days, with the support of both Fury and an agent named Coulson, not to mention the combined stubbornness of Tony and Steve, they are loading Bucky into the back of an ambulance to transfer him to Stark Tower.

They aren’t completely free of Shield medical, though. A Shield appointed doctor is to come in and monitor Bucky’s progress every week or so, and when he wakes up—they said if, but Steve refuses to consider that—they are to be the first to know.

Once Bucky is settled into the Stark medical bed, hooked up to an IV mixed by Stark’s meticulously hired physicians, Steve feels like he can breathe a little easier. All the doctors agree that Bucky should wake up soon, and it’s a breath of fresh air. Bucky is no longer hooked up to so many wires and tubes, just one IV line in his arm and a tube disappearing into his nose, and it is encouraging to see. For once, in this crazy new world, Steve has something to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might start posting doodles I've made for this on [my Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	4. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avengers, Assemble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long, but I didn't want to have to split it up into two, for reasons you will probably see in a bit.
> 
> The 'blood' tag is justified in this chapter, just FYI. Nothing too graphic, but still blood, so yeah.
> 
> Chapter title is from the Avengers 2012 soundtrack
> 
> That's it! I hope you all enjoy, and please remember to leave a comment or kudos or both to let me know if you liked or not!

In the following weeks, Steve spends most of his time by Bucky’s bedside. Unless he is dragged away by Tony or sent away by the stern words of one of the doctors, Steve sits by Bucky, guards him and waits eagerly for him to wake up.

When Tony tears him away the first time, it’s for a tour of the Tower. Despite his initial misgivings, Steve does not find it to be completely distasteful, though he has noticed Tony’s habit of pasting his name on everything he invents. It isn’t as if his father didn’t do the same thing though, and he was a decent man, so Steve lets it slide.

During this first away from Bucky, Tony introduces Steve to his CEO, Virginia Potts. She is a kind woman, gentle, but also sharp as a tack and efficient. It’s a marvel to Steve the amount of work she must do in addition to making sure Tony doesn’t die of malnutrition or exhaustion. She instructs him to call her Pepper, and Steve couldn’t think of a better nickname for the woman if he tried.

Steve’s introduction to Jarvis is not nearly as smooth. It happened when he queried aloud where Tony was and received an unexpected and heart stopping answer. Out of everything Tony has crafted, he thinks Jarvis might be the most magnificent. Tony calls him a learning artificial intelligence. Steve can’t believe Jarvis isn’t a person. He can hold full conversations, inflect for speech and Steve privately theorizes that the AI can feel emotion. He even goes so far as to believe that Jarvis worries for Tony. Maybe his thoughts are outdated, or maybe he’s on to something.

Out of all these strange things in the 21st century, though, Tony is the most puzzling. He is an enigma and frankly contradictory. He has invited Steve into his home, pays to care for Bucky and to keep Steve fed and clothed, while he waits for Shield to decide what’s to be done to him, and asks for nothing in return. Not even company. Other than Tony’s tours and some interactions in the hallway, Steve really doesn’t see much of him. When he had heard about the Tower, he expected Tony to be a rich, laid back brat. He is a brat, not that Steve can really talk, but aside from a drinking problem, he is far from laid back. Anytime he isn’t dragging Steve around or stumbling through half-awake interactions, he is puttering around his lab, building, or out doing something that he hasn’t quite explained to Steve yet. He says he is testing 'the suit,' but he won’t say more, and every time he gives Steve a look that makes the Captain nervous.

Otherwise, the Tower is surprisingly void of people that Tony thinks are important for Steve to meet. He has met Coulson briefly a few times while Stark was away. It wasn’t awkward, but it did involve signing several pieces of merchandise, which was odd and surreal. He hadn’t signed anything since he stepped foot on the battle field, and honestly hadn’t thought he ever would again.

Three weeks into his stay and Steve is starting to view the Tower as a home, Bucky’s bedside as his bedroom and Tony as his… friend. He has a sketchbook full of the man in the midst of doing various things. He is so animated and it inspired Steve to finally pick up a pencil and see if the ice dulled his skills. As he sits there and sketches, day after day, he keeps expecting to feel Bucky’s hand on his shoulder and to look up and see a teasing glint in his eyes. They remain stubbornly closed though, and Steve must content himself with glaring at the fishy Shield doctor that shows up every so often.

Of course, the peace doesn’t last, it never does. Steve was in Bucky’s hospital room, as always, when he heard the news. Shield had been messing with the Tesseract, opened a ‘door’ and let some alien god with the goal of conquering the Earth onto the planet. The ‘god’ had kidnapped several agents, killed more, destroyed a base and taken the Tesseract. Shield suddenly decided Steve would be a great leader for a team they had been planning since before he woke up called the Avengers. Less than an hour after the call, with Pepper’s blessing, they are packed up and traveling to meet a homicidal self-proclaimed god in Germany and Steve finds out that Tony’s ‘suit’ is a gaudy, red and gold, flying suit of armor. He is sure Bucky would be intrigued by it. Steve just mourns Tony’s choice in color scheme.

The god they meet is named Loki, and he’s slippery like an eel and has a tongue like a knife. He reminds Steve of the Red Skull, another man who thought he was above everyone else just because he was stronger. Steve doesn’t like him and something tells him that putting the god in a glass cage is not going to do them a lot of good.

He meets the rest of the team, formally, after they have secured Loki. There is Natasha Romanoff, the black widow, Bruce Banner, the Hulk and Thor, the brother of Loki and a storm controlling demi-god. He likes Thor and Banner somewhat, but Natasha makes him nervous. She seems interested in her own goals, but then again, so does Shield. He isn’t honestly sure if they will make a good team.

To top it all off, Tony thoroughly makes an ass of himself within ten minutes of his introduction. He nicknames each new member of the team, insults Fury and picks at Banner like he isn’t a ticking time bomb. Tony then proceeds to hack through Shield’s systems, and Steve, despite being disapproving on the surface, is curious himself. He goes off to do more physical investigation. What he uncovers is not encouraging. Shield has made weapons using the Tesseract, powerful weapons, weapons that look uncannily like Hydra’s.

Tony makes too light of the situation, and Steve is too high strung to let it go. They end up in a fight. Tony spits venom and Steve does too. They both say things they regret.

“Everything that makes you special came out of a bottle,” Tony tells him. And it hurts more than anything else because they both know it’s true.

He has never been more thankful for a battle, since it distracts them from their quarrel and spurs Steve into action. He can use all those special things he got from a bottle and saves Tony’s ungrateful ass to boot.

Still, Loki escapes, Coulson dies, Thor and the Hulk fall, but they gain Clint Barton. He is an invaluable archer, quiet, but sure, teeming with rage towards Loki for what the god did to him. Natasha is thrilled, Steve is too, for entirely different reasons.

Loki moves the battle to New York and Steve’s heart jumps into his throat. Bucky is in New York. Bucky is helpless, still unconscious and alone on the med floor of Tony’s tower. Tony asks if Steve wants him to instruct the doctors to move him out of the Tower, but one look at the portal and the aliens spewing out of it, and Steve knows they don’t have time. It’s safer for Bucky in the Tower now, hopefully Loki doesn’t know he’s there and even if he does, there isn’t much good in controlling someone who’s catatonic. Steve can only pray that Loki will leave his friend alone.

Steve fights hard, reckless and fast, Thor at his back, Natasha and Tony in the air, Clint sniping from a rooftop and the Hulk roaring somewhere in the background. Turns out they make a good team after all.

Tony disappears from the battle to carry a nuke through a portal. It doesn’t look like he is coming back through and out of options, Steve orders Natasha to close the portal with a hoarse choke. Impossibly, Tony falls through at the last minute, but doesn’t slow down. Steve sees Bucky in Tony falling limp through the air. He won’t catch him in time, he can’t catch him, he is going to lose his friend again, but then Hulk catches Tony and scares the genius, seemingly, back to life. The battle is won, the Tower has taken damage, but they are all alive and New York is safe.

That’s when he gets the call from Jarvis, and he’s sprinting away to the Tower.

Bucky wakes to the sound of muted chaos. It disorientates him for a minute, the sounds, but he realizes they are to be expected. They’re on a plane, he and Steve, and those things are noisy. Steve is… Steve is fighting the Red Skull. Steve needs his help.

Bucky forces his eyes open and shoots up, only to curl in on himself because his head is pounding and he is stiff and sore. It feels like there is cotton in his mouth, some sort of drug, and his throat is dry and uncomfortable.

Outside of his own aches and pains, Bucky realizes he isn’t sitting on the metal grating of the plane scaffolding, but rather, on a soft bed. There’s a tube in his arm and in his nose. He grimaces and pulls the nasal one out. It hurts, but it’s worth it, since it makes swallowing so much easier.

He moves to pull the IV out of his right arm, but is somewhat confused by the length of time it takes his left arm to respond. Before he can deduce the cause, the pane of glass that was muting the chaotic sounds shatters, shards shooting inwards and spraying over the floor. Something slides through the window and knocks into him, sending them both off the bed and ripping the IV from his arm. He falls over on the other side near the door to the room, managing to avoid hitting the broken glass, but not hitting his left arm. It sets alight with pain, raw and white hot. His vision whites and he shouts with it before he can stop himself. He curls into a ball, whimpering and grasping for the painful appendage when he figures it out. His fingers close around a bandaged stump and his eyes immediately snap to it. His left arm is gone. The stump extends to a few inches above his elbow and is bandaged with quickly reddening gauze.

Bucky lets out an aborted noise of shock, and claws at the bandages, but stops in favor of just holding the limb as another wave of pain washes over him. He takes a deep breath, letting it out through his nose, fighting off the nausea that he now feels. He takes stock of where he is. He isn’t safe, he can panic and be sick when he and Steve are somewhere safe.

He looks up and around, trying to see if his friend is anywhere in the vicinity. He doesn’t find Steve, but his eyes land on a bluish… monster… arrows sticking out if its eye and back. There is some kind of vehicle lodged in the remains of the window.

“What the hell…” he breathes, scooting away from the wreckage. His bare feet brush against pieces of broken glass. He is backed up against the bedside table by the time the creature begins to stir. It squirms and then starts crawling towards him, arms pulling its bleeding body towards him as its legs drag behind. It’s like a scene out of one of the horror novels he has read come to life, and Bucky finds himself frozen in terror, back straight and eyes wide. Bucky is not a fearful person, he is brave, he willingly followed Steve through Hydra base after Hydra base, but he would gladly take an army of Hydra soldiers over this thing.

It is slow at least, using one arm to inch towards him, trailing through broken glass that slices into its thick skin and blue blood pools around it. Bucky manages to find his legs, forcing them under him as he stands. He ignores it as the glass cuts his feet and makes a break for the door. His gait is wobbly and faltering, he is obviously drugged to the gills, but he is faster than his pursuer. He makes it out the door and slams it behind him, shivering at the foreign snarling noise the creature makes as it shuts.

He emerges into a hallway, it looks clean, well maintained and lit, but utterly empty. He risks a shout to see if anyone is around, but doesn’t get an answer. He continues on slowly, trailing blood in his wake and not giving it a though. He is more interested in getting as much distance between him and the creature as possible.

He makes it to the end of the hallway and into a small office before collapsing against a wall, too light-headed and dizzy to go on. His legs are already shaking from exhaustion and his hand is wet with blood from where it clutches around his stump of an arm. He must have torn his stitches. He brings his knees up and rests his head on them, confused and scared. His head is throbbing in time with his arm and feet. “Steve…?” he calls miserably.

“Please hold on Sergeant Barnes. Captain Steve Rogers will be here momentarily.”

Barnes’s head snaps up and looks around, but there isn’t anyone in the room. The voice sounds recorded, but very high quality, so he isn’t sure if someone else is in the room, he is crazy, or the voice is coming from a radio. “What…?” he asks anyway.

“Captain Rogers is on his way. ETA fifteen minutes, if his running speed remains constant.”

“Oh…” Bucky replies dumbly. “Who’re you?” he asks. Steve will be here soon, but he needs something to distract himself.

“I am JARVIS,” the voice replies succinctly. “Tony Stark’s personal AI assistant. I run the house, among other things, sir,’ he says with no small amount of pride.

“That so…?” Bucky says. He is sure the guy is pulling his leg, but he will play along until Steve gets there. “Say… I was being followed by some… thing. Do you… do you think it’s still following me?” he asks. He doesn’t expect an answer, but after a pause, Jarvis replies.

“All Chitauri invaders were simultaneously deactivated approximately ten minutes ago when Sir directed an atomic bomb to detonate in their mother ship. Captain Rogers has entered the building, sir, he will be here in five minutes.”

“Oh good,” Bucky says, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He is exhausted, the conversation having drained the adrenaline out of his system, leaving him shaky and his eyes heavy.

“Sergeant, I must insist that you stay awake until Captain Rogers arrives!” Jarvis tells him, he sounds louder. Bucky flinches, but doesn’t move his head away from the wall, opening his eyes.

“I’m tired, Jarvis,” Bucky says, because it seems appropriate.

“You have been asleep for a little under seventy years, Sergeant, I am sure you can stay awake for the remaining two minutes it will take Captain Rogers to reach this room.”

Bucky snorts, but then what Jarvis said registers. “What? Seventy….” The door bursts open, cutting him off. Steve is there, he is dirty, bruised and obviously tired, but there, and for a breathtaking moment, they just look at each other. “Steve…” he says, relief audible.

The moment breaks and Steve rushes towards him, scooping him into a hug, gentle, but firm. “Bucky,” he breaths and Bucky brings his remaining arm up to wrap around the blonde. “You picked a hell of a time to wake up,” Steve says with a breathless chuckle.

“No shit,” Bucky agrees, resting his aching head on Steve’s shoulder. The warmth is soothing, but now he has a good view of his arm and he has to swallow back the urge to be sick. “The Nazis took my arm, Steve,” he says weakly, an attempt at levity.

Steve hugs him tighter before moving back to look at Bucky, both hands on his shoulders. “Aw… Buck…” he says sadly, communicating his regret with his sad eyes and furrowed brow.

“Worst things I could lose though,” he says, quiet and serious. It doesn’t seem like Steve is listening though, his eyes are glued to Bucky’s stump and the sadness is gone, replaced by worry. Bucky’s about to clear his throat and let Steve know the staring isn’t appreciated, but Steve speaks first.

“How long has this been bleeding, Bucky? Doesn’t it hurt?” He has both hands on Bucky’s stump now, inspecting it gingerly.

“I fell on it on my way out of bed.” Steve moves his hand and pain shoots up Bucky’s stump and into his shoulderblade. “Goddamn, Steve, stop!” He uses his right arm to ineffectually push the blonde away. “It wasn’t hurting that bad until you started poking at it!”

“We have to put pressure on it, Bucky,” Steve explains, keeping his grip tight on the arm.

“Pretty sure you’re squeezing the blood _out_ of me!” Bucky complains. Then the door bursts open again and they are joined by a man who looks just as battle worn as Steve.

“Sleeping beauty awakens!” he says, jubilant. He earns himself a glare that could make plants wither from Steve and Bucky has to give the man credit for not backing down. That glare was scary when Steve was five foot nothing.

“Stark, call a medic,” Steve says, motioning towards Bucky’s arm. The man… Stark… visibly pales and Bucky feels a twinge of shame before the man is all but running out the door shouting.

“Stark… like… Howard Stark?” Bucky asks after the door has slammed shut behind the man. “Looked like him.”

“Yeah, Tony Stark, his son,” Steve says absently before he catches Bucky’s perplexed look. “God, Bucky, I’m gonna be honest, we’re in a mess,” he says, sparing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t going to be easy to explain.”

“Never is,” Bucky says humorlessly. Steve sighs and turns his attention to Bucky’s feet.

“Did you walk through glass?” Steve asks, appalled. Bucky shrugs. Compared to the arm, they don’t even hurt that much.

“Only way to the door,” Bucky says reasonably. “Some… thing… crashed into my room, broke the window.”

“A Chitauri?” Steve asks, if possible, even more worried.

“I think that’s what Jarvis called it,” Bucky confirms.

“God, Bucky, are you okay?!” Steve asks, looking over Bucky for more injuries.

“I fell on my useless stump of an arm and ran through some glass, I’m fine,” Bucky insists, pushing Steve’s hands away. Mother-henning was nice for only so long. Steve would never have stood for being fussed over, the goddamn hypocrite. “Stop mothering me, I’m fine.”

Steve seems to hesitate at Bucky’s words, eying him critically. He opens his mouth to speak, but then Tony Stark and two other men are entering the room. One is large and blond, with some weird looking armor stuff on, and the other man is shorter, curly hair graying at his temples and he wears a pair of some ill-fitting pants and a bright red blanket draped over his shoulders

“All the medics evacuated or are helping in the city, so I brought the next best thing!” Tony announces, leading the two men into the room. The man with the blanket around his shoulders ducks around Tony and kneels at Bucky’s side, holding a hand out to him.

“I’m Bruce Banner,” he says, smiling softly, though there is a noticeable tremor in his hands.

“James Buchanan Barnes, but call me Bucky,” he took Banner’s hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

After the pleasantries, Banner gets right to work, moving Steve’s hands out of the way and gently unwinding the bandages wrapped around Bucky’s arms. “So you fell on it?” he says, conversationally. Not waiting for a reply, he continues. “Tell me if I hurt you.” He rotates Bucky’s arm, so that the place where they stitched him back together is visible. Bucky tenses ever so slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Steve notices and grabs his hand. Banner doesn’t take notice, clicking his tongue in dismay. “You popped a couple stitches. I’m going to have to re-sew them.” He turns to Tony then. “Can you grab a first aid kit for me? And some morphine and lidocaine from the nurses’ station?”

“Oh, I’m your nurse now?” Tony snarks, but is already heading out the door.

Once Tony is gone, Bruce fully unwraps Bucky’s arm and reaches for Steve’s hands, laying a few strips of relatively clean bandages in his palm. “I want you to put pressure on this, right here.” He moves Steve’s hands in the correct place. “There you go.” Bucky tries not to wince when Steve’s hands finally start applying pressure, but doesn’t exactly do a good job, eliciting a mournful look from Steve and an empathetic one from Bruce. “I’m going to look at your feet, okay?” he says, moving down Bucky’s outstretched legs.

“Don’t gotta ask me, Doc. Just do what you need to do,” Bucky says breezily. His head, arm and feet hurt, he is sore from exhaustion and shaking like a leaf, but Bruce’s hands are gentle as he works. Much better than any field medic Bucky has encountered before.

As if sensing his thoughts, or probably more feeling the tremor in his legs, Bruce looks up. “We’ll get you some morphine,” Bruce says as he examines Bucky’s feet. Bucky looks away from what Bruce is doing and around the room, making eye-contact with big, blond and towering in the corner. He is looking away, melancholic and reserved, before he notices Bucky’s stare and flashes him a smile.

“That’s Thor,” Steve says, noticing where Bucky’s eyes had wandered.

“Yes. I am Thor Odinson,” Thor echoes. “It’s good that you have awakened! The Captain was very worried,” he says and Bucky can’t figure out if the joy in his voice is fake or not. He seems genuinely pleased that Bucky is awake.

“Bucky,” Bucky greets, following formalities. “Though it looks like you all know me already,” he observes. “How long was I out?”

“Uh…” Bruce says helpfully. Steve just chews his lip and looks away like he didn’t hear the question.

Thor, however, answers boisterously. “To my understanding, it has been a near seventy years that you have been asleep. A marvelous feat, even by Asgardian standards. You and the Captain are super soldiers, indeed.” He seems genuinely impressed and Bucky is, at first, more floored by that than by what the man is actually saying. Steve has tensed up near his arm and Banner is watching him carefully. Bucky isn’t sure how he is supposed to react to this news, but he is sure his reaction is probably, at the very least, lackluster.

“Oh,” he says lamely. Steve is staring at him with a kind of funny look and Banner has decided to go back to checking his feet.

“Oh?” Steve asks, brow furrowing. “That’s it.”

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky asks, a bit hostile. He isn’t exactly trained for this sort of thing, they didn’t sit him down in basic and tell him what to say when he wakes up after being asleep for seventy years. “I’m not even sure I believe you, honestly,” he admits. “How do I know you’re not pulling my leg?”

Steve snorts at him and opens his mouth, but Banner answers for him. “Don’t worry, Tony will give you a crash course. It’ll be hard to doubt once you’re through.” As if on cue, Tony crashes into the room, holding a bright red first aid kit and several fat looking syringes. Bucky can’t help himself, he blanches. He used to be okay with needles, used to give Steve shit for not liking shots. Now? Not so much.

Of course, Steve is watching as his face goes sheet white. Of course, he notices, his eyes might not have been so good before the war, but now they are sharper than a hawk’s. As Bucky tears his eyes away from the syringes Tony is holding, he meets Steve’s eyes just in time to see his face crumple in worry.

Steve looks like he is about to comment on it, and Bucky holds his breath and waits for his fear to be made apparent to everyone in the room. Instead, Tony, God bless him, interrupts just in time. “I got the auto-injectors because I don’t know how to fill a syringe,” he says. Barnes has no idea what an auto-injector is, but it sure as hell looks like a fancy syringe. “And…” he waggles the first aid kit. “This baby even has a defibrillator in it.” He sounds like he should be showered in praise.

Bruce just rolls his eyes. “Hopefully we don’t need it,” he comments as Tony waltzes over with the requested items.

“The hell’s a defibrillator?” Bucky asks, for the sake of the conversation. He needs a distraction from Bruce’s work.

Tony kneels down on the side of Bucky that isn’t monopolized by Steve. It makes things a bit crowded and hard to breathe, but Bucky also has an excuse to look away from what Banner is doing, so he’ll take it. “A defibrillator,” Tony begins, rooting through the kit and pulling out a small squarish device. “Is this thing. It’s used to...” Tony motions vaguely with his hand for a moment. "Fix your heart rhythm... I guess... It's hard to explain. I'm not a medical doctor."  He pulls the thing apart, unpacking a wad of cords with two little pads attached to the ends. Banner injects something into his thigh and massages the muscle, Bucky fights not to look.

“How?” he asks, voice weak. Steve doesn’t seem to notice, interested in Stark’s explanation as well.

“Jolts of electricity,” Tony continues to explain. “Your heart has pacemaker cells that use the same kind of electricity this thing does. A couple zaps and it fixes the cells. It’s really handy.”

“Thought you weren’t a doctor,” Steve comments. He seems interested in the machine, but more intrigued by Tony’s explanation. Bucky is the opposite. He doesn’t really care about Tony’s words, but the machine runs on electricity? It has enough to restart a heart? It’s so tiny. He barely notices as Banner reaches into the kit and pulls out a small pack with a needle, string and antiseptic, having injected him with local anesthetic without Bucky feeling it.

Belatedly, Barnes notices he isn’t really feeling the morphine, or the anesthetic. He woke up feeling drugged to all hell, but it didn’t seem to have muted the pain at all, just gave him an uncomfortable muzzy feeling. He doesn’t have time to think about that though, as Tony is speaking again.

“Good thing you’re finally awake, Barnes, Steve doesn’t have an excuse to miss my tours now,” he says jovially. Bucky can feel the first prick of the needle into his skin and the thread move through. Steve huffs, drawing his attention away.

“T-tours?” Bucky asks, wincing at the stutter. Banner pauses for a moment, watching Bucky closely, but Bucky resolutely keeps his eyes turned away. It’s fine, he can feel it, but it’s fine.

“Yeah, tours,” Tony echoes. “Teaching Steve, here, all about what he missed.” He pauses for a moment, watching Bucky’s reaction. Bucky, who is spending far too much time trying not think about the needle and thread working its way through his arm, manages to look somewhat interested, so the man continues. “I’ve been doing them in between work. Teaching him how to use a computer, the toaster, the microwave…” he trails off at Bucky’s blank expression. “Right, forties, sorry. They didn’t have that stuff, did they?”

“No,” Bucky says, proud at how strong his voice sounds, especially as Banner weaves another loop into the skin of his arm. “Gonna have to show me… or Steve can,” he says, quirking a smile at Steve. “If this… really is the future, you’re gonna have to prove it.”

“It’s the future, alright,” Steve says, cutting off Tony’s no doubt cheeky reply. “All that stuff at Stark’s expo is here… except for the flying cars.” It’s a jab at Tony and the man looks vaguely stunned.

“We’ve been to space!” Tony says indignantly. Bucky wants to ask about that, but Steve cuts him off with another teasing reply.

“I was promised flying cars.”

“You can cook food with _microwaves!”_

“That’s nice, but where is my flying car? What about a flying motorcycle? That would be easier, right?"

“We cured polio! Measles! Chicken pox!”

That seems to get Steve to shut up, because if Bucky has always been interested in technology, Steve has always been interested in medicine. “No one told me that,” he says thoughtfully.

Tony, with theatrical disbelief, turns to Bucky, mouth agape. “Can you believe this guy?” he asks, appalled. “Been showing him the magic of the internet for days and he gets excited over medical advancements. _That he doesn’t need_!”

Bucky has no idea what the internet is, but he shrugs, playing along amicably with Tony. “You know this guy’s story?” He can feel Banner tying the knot in the sutures. “His mom was a nurse, and he was sick his whole life,” he explains. Tony’s appalled expression doesn’t change, but his eyes soften in understanding. “Even I think curing polio’s a big deal,” he adds after a pause.

Banner moves down to his feet and uses a pair of tweezers to pull a piece of glass out of his foot. He can’t really help it, he had relaxed too much and he flinches. Banner immediately glances at Barnes. “Can you feel that?” Steve looks down at Bucky in worry.

“I can… I can feel a little pressure… movement,” Bucky lies. “It scared me.” He pointedly doesn’t look at Steve. If he catches on, there is no way he can lie about the morphine working. Even before the serum, he had always been superhumanly perceptive when it came to Bucky.

“You sure it’s only a little?” Steve asks suspiciously, rubbing a thumb across the top of his right hand, an attempt to coax honesty out of him.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Bucky says indignantly. “You think I’d just sit through having glass pulled ot of my foot when there’s drugs on hand?” he jokes. Only he would, especially if they had already given him the drugs and they aren’t working. That isn’t right. It isn’t normal. It’s been that way since he was captured by Hydra as a POW. “I’m fine,” he insists, both to himself and to Steve.

“I’m going to give you little more,” Banner says insists and Bucky looks away as he fishes another auto-injector from Tony’s stockpile. He feels a prick in his thigh and waits a few minutes, Steve and Banner talking softly, before he sighs and relaxes. Banner doesn’t seem doubtful of his act and continues to work as Steve continues to run his thumb over the top of his palm. Bucky focuses on the repetitive motion of Steve worrying his skin, rather than the prodding and pulling from Banner. Eventually, Banner is done, and beginning to sew up the deeper gashes. Bucky has since relaxed with his head on Steve’s shoulder, listening and contributing occasionally to Steve and Tony’s conversation.

The two are discussing technology, arguing mostly. It is obvious both of them have figured out where the other’s soft spot is, so they constantly poke at it until they are both very near yelling. It’s irritating, but also blessedly distracting and somewhat entertaining. He interrupts when Banner’s hands start to falter because of the others’ volume.

“What’s the internet?” he asks Steve quietly. It stops Steve mid-rant about the proper use of rocket fuel and Tony gives him a look like Bucky is the most sad and pitiful thing he has ever seen.

“Oh my god, don’t ask Steve that question, he doesn’t even know how to Google anything,” Tony says. “Thor, grab me that laptop over there—no, not that, the other thing—okay,” Tony let out a breath and accepted the laptop from Thor. He flipped the top up. From what Bucky could see, it was like a notebook, but with a screen and a typewriter-like bottom. The image on the screen his also in color, the most vibrant color has seen on something that isn’t a painting or real life.

“That’s a laptop,” Bucky says, intrigued. “There’s an internet on that?”

“A Starktop,” Tony corrects him. Bucky wrinkled his nose at the pure tackiness of the name and looks to Steve, who surreptitiously rolls hi eyes. “And this has an internet connection. Wireless. WiFi.”

“I don’t know heads or tails of what you’re saying, Stark,” Bucky says honestly. Banner is now wrapping his feet in gauze, allowing Bucky to focus more fully on the conversation. “Gonna have to explain.”

“Hold your horses, Sergeant, I’m getting there,” Tony snarks right back, not missing a beat. He moves his finger on a little pad below the typewriter keys, which makes a little white arrow on the screen move around. Bucky has no idea how the thing works, but it is absolutely amazing. The little pad had two buttons underneath it, almost the exact color as the device, and Tony uses those to confirm a selection. It’s like pressing a button to make one of Hydra’s vehicles start, only is brings more things up on the screen.

“This…” Tony begins, selecting a little picture of a ball with green, yellow and red sections with a little blue middle. He uses the keys to type something in, that appears at the top of the screen as he types. ‘Wizard of Oz,’ he types, then does more navigating through the screen before bringing up a… movie? “This is the internet. This is what you use it for.”

“To watch the Wizard of Oz?” Bucky asks, a tad absently. Steve laughs, but Bucky doesn’t really care, too entranced by how small the picture is and how _good_ it looks.

“Not just to watch the Wizard of Oz, it works like a library too,” Steve explains. “You can… look stuff up on it. Google it... and it will bring up information on it.” He hold his hands out for Tony to give him the laptop. Thor has joined them now, looking vaguely amused as Tony hands it over. He types in ‘World War II,’ noticeably slower than Stark, and that’s the war he and Steve fought in. The laptop brings up black and white images and lines of text underneath it advertising the key words in encyclopedias and articles, even what looks like newspaper clippings.

“I’ll be damned,” Bucky says, impressed. “And you can just… type anything in?”

“You’ll wanna be careful about exactly what, but yeah. There’s everything on here,” Steve says, smiling softly at Bucky.

“Remember not everything you read on there is true though,” Banner chimes in with caution. He has finished fooling around with Bucky’s feet and arm and is packing his supplies away. “Not everything you read is true.” Both Steve and Bucky nod seriously at that. The same could be said about any media, they aren’t children, but the advice is appreciated anyway.

“I want one of those,” Bucky says after a pause. Steve looks like he is about to promise Bucky the moon if he wants it, but thankfully Tony interrupts.

“It’s yours, but only if you actually use it,” Tony says, practically shoving the laptop into Bucky’s lap. “Unlike this old guy here,” he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder that the punk tries to shove off. Bucky knows why he doesn’t like it, makes him feel small, but it’s not like he has to prove he’s not anymore.

Banner coughs and cuts off Steve’s attempt at rebuttal. “Can we move this into a hospital bed? I want to get Bucky hooked up to a drip before the morphine wears off,” he says. “If that’s alright with you?” he asks after a moment, looking to Bucky for approval.

“Sure,” Bucky agrees. “The floor’s hard.”

“Let’s take him to Steve’s floor, there’s a guest bedroom and the bed’s comfy and there’s no broken glass there,” Tony suggests. “You set you carry your boyfriend, Steve? Or do we need to get a gurney.”

“Carry?!” Bucky protests, but is ignored.

“I can carry him,” Steve says with frown, obviously not appreciating the jab.

“Hey, no, Steve, I can walk.”

“And pop out your stitches? No.” And that is Steve’s no nonsense voice, so even if Bucky raises hell, he isn’t going to get his way.

“Fine, it’ll be payback for all the times I had to carry your sorry ass home,” Bucky says grumpily. Steve furrows his brow, but sighs, wrapping one arm in the crook of Bucky’s legs and then the other under his arms, careful with the freshly bandaged one.

To Bucky’s intense displeasure, Tony is sniggering as Steve carries Bucky bridal style out of the room with Thor and Banner in tow. Obviously, the man has a death wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Look at all these pictures of Sebastian Stan on my Tumblr, you're welcome](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/search/gross)


	5. Vacation's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is settled in, Steve’s suspicious and an agreement is reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter. Much, much shorter this time and I am currently sick and on about 6 different medications right now, so sorry if there are typos. 
> 
> I feel like things are going kinda slow? Lemme know if you think so too. I might mash up some chapters so we can get the loose strings from the battle of New York tied up faster and can start... actually building a relationship between these three idiots.
> 
> Title is from the first Iron Man Soundtrack. Please enjoy and don't forget to leave me a comment or kudos or both to tell me what you think!

Bucky is acting strangely. Steve keeps telling himself it’s because Bucky just woke up, but the way he keeps looking away from the needles that Banner sticks under his skin or his tense replies, obvious ploys to distract from the fact that the pain meds aren't working, worries him. Obviously Bucky is tired, because he would know he couldn’t fool Steve.

He also let Steve pick him up with not enough fight, not even much of a sarcastic jab. Maybe it was his reaction to Stark’s comment about them that got him. Still, he lifts Bucky, his weight is comfortable in his arms, but his worry for Bucky is a lead weight in his chest.

He carries Bucky to an elevator, which despite elevators existing in their time, Bucky still marvels at it in fascination. Maybe Stark will teach Bucky how to build things and that will help him adjust.

“You know, we had elevators in our time, Bucky, if you’d have asked nicely, I would have taken you to the one at the department store,” he weedles with a smile, watching as Bucky’s eyes fly around the compartment. Steve notices they have a train following them now, Tony and Banner, followed by Thor and then just behind him are Clint and Natasha. Clint looks insatiably curious, and Natasha just meets his eyes and quirks an eyebrow, a little smile on her lips.

Before, Steve couldn’t decide how he felt about Natasha, but now, she is starting to grow on him. Bucky follows his gaze and sees the two newcomers as they board the elevator behind Thor. There’s more than enough room for all of them to stand in the middle, but Steve naturally moves to the back to accommodate them. Natasha follows after them.

“Don’t run away from me, Rogers,” Natasha teases softly. There is blood in her hair and her lip is split, but she is smiling and her eyes are flicking between him and Bucky. “Who’s your friend?” Steve knows she knows, it’s just her way of smoothly getting introductions out of the way.

Steve opens his mouth to introduce Bucky, but his friend beats him to the punch. Carefully unwrapping his arm from around Steve’s neck, he offers a hand to Natasha. “Bucky Barnes, ma’am,” he says, giving her a winning smile, that although he can’t see, Steve can feel the subtle shift of his shoulders. Bucky smiles with his whole body, always has.

“Natasha Romanoff,” Natasha says pleasantly, shaking hands. “I heard you had a rude awakening,” she prompts. She acts as if it isn’t intensely awkward to hold a conversation with someone who is being held in someone else’s arms. Bucky relaxes, a tad, however, so Steve is thankful for it.

“Yeah, some blue… chitauri… thing crashed through my window,” he said, stumbling over ‘chitauri.’ Bucky is taking all this surprisingly well, especially since Steve has yet to really explain anything to him. He isn’t sure if it’s a good sign or not. Regardless, he will be sure to explain fully when he gets a chance.

“That might have been my bad,” Barton’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Shot one and it went crashing into the tower.”

“You use arrows?” Bucky asks, sounding incredulous. “Because that thing had fucking arrows sticking out of it.”

“Yeah, I use arrows,” Barton shoots back, challenging.

“That’s… archaic,” Bucky comments. “Thought we were in the future.” His voice is more playful than insulting.

“They aren’t regular arrows! They explode and stuff,” Barton explains, adamantly defending his honor.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise and he looks up to Steve. “Oh! So they explode. Very futuristic. I’m convinced.”

“I’ll show you later,” Barton promises. “I’m Clint Barton, by the way.” Unlike Natasha he does not shake Bucky’s hand, allowing Bucky to snake it back around Steve’s neck. “Sorry about the alien in your window.”

“It ain’t my window,” Bucky says breezily. Tony snorts from somewhere to the left. The elevator dings and opens to Steve’s floor, and everyone clears out, once again following the Captain. Unlike the med floor, Steve’s floor is relatively untouched. There is a hole in the ceiling just outside Steve’s art room, one door is hanging slightly ajar and one of the windows is smashed out. The floor is free of chitauri and large debris, thankfully. Steve finds himself sighing in relief as their crew makes their way through the halls. Bucky is relatively quiet, taking in the floor, but saying nothing.

Once they reach the guest bedroom, Thor goes ahead of Steve and pulls back the covers on the bed courteously. Steve sets Bucky carefully down and helps him to scoot up against the headboard and pillows, stopping himself just shy of fluffing them. Bucky seemed about ready to protest when Steve set him down, but now that his butt is on the mattress, he instantly relaxes, melting into the bed and blinking tiredly a few times at everyone in the room.

“I want to set up an IV in here, but then we’ll leave you alone,” Banner says attentively, reading Bucky like a book. “You and Steve can talk about your… situation.”

“Situation…” Bucky snorts, but nods at Banner to go and fetch an IV. Before he leaves, weaving through the other Avengers, he calls back.

“It will just be saline, painkillers and some antibiotics,” Banner says and Bucky nods.

“Don’t gotta tell me.” It’s an obvious lie, but if it helps him feel more comfortable, Steve won’t call him out on it.

Bucky leans back more fully when Banner leaves, but still seems uncomfortable with so many people in the room. There is a long stretch of silence in which nothing said and everyone looks at Bucky and Bucky looks at everyone else, before blessedly a voice rings out from the corner of the room.

“So…. What now?” Tony says. He fiddles with the laptop he is still holding before making his way to the bed and handing it to Bucky, along with a thin cord. “Cap’s bestie is awake, the chitauri are defeated, there is a royally pissed off alien god in my basement and a blue cube and matching stick of destiny that need taking care of,” he lists, as if any of them need any reminding. Sure, Bucky provided a big distraction, but the battle happened less than a couple hours ago.

“Call Fury,” Steve says, sitting heavily on the bed next to Bucky, who seems to be trying adamantly not to doze off with so many people in the room. He is also watching everyone’s reaction to Tony’s words, obviously checking to see if it sounded as crazy as he thought it did. Steve looks over at him with a small smile. “Trust me, Bucky, I’ll explain. We’re in a mess.”

Bucky makes a noncommittal sound, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. Tony interrupts their exchange.

“You call Fury, he likes you more,” Tony says wrinkling his nose childishly. He flops down on the bed next to Bucky on the unoccupied side, kicking his shoes off. “I’ll explain the situation to Bucky.”

“Like hell,” Steve says before he can stop himself. Tony looks surprised for a moment before his mouth curves up, just slightly, into a smirk. As if his assertion was entertaining. Steve suddenly wants to hit him, but restrains himself.

“Alright, alright, mother bear,” Tony sighs, standing from the bed. “You catch Bucky up to speed, I’ll call tall, dark and grumpy.”

Tony vacates the room after that, disappearing into the hall, leaving Thor, Clint and Natasha to stand in the room. Natasha moves first, dragging Clint behind her as she exits. She stops and waves to Steve and Bucky before leaving. Thor remains, but seems relatively uninterested in Steve and Bucky. He walks to the windows and pulls the curtains back, looking out at the city. Steve interprets it for what it is, keeping watch. That, or surveying the amount of damage his brother caused.

“So…” Bucky’s voice pulls his gaze away from Thor. Bucky is patting the vacant space beside him, obviously intending Steve to sit next to him, rather than on the edge of the bed. “Said you’d explain how we ended up in the future,” Bucky begins. He isn’t really looking at Steve, gaze wandering over his uniform. “… Jarvis… said something about me sleeping… for seventy years?” His voice takes on a reedy desperate quality.

“Yeah… I… uh…” Steve looks down, trying to formulate some response. “God, Buck…” he continued. “I guess I… What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Schmidt pulling some blue cube out and attacking with it. Think I hit my head,” Bucky reports with a furrowed brow. “Don’t remember much after that… maybe that it was cold…?”

Steve deflates in relief. Bucky didn’t remember the crash. “I uh… The plane we were on, it had explosives, remember?”

Bucky nods thoughtfully. “Would have put a big dent in part of Europe and the U.S., I remember.”

“Yeah, um… When Schmidt and I were fighting, I hit the console and busted it,” Steve explained. Bucky snorts a laugh, presumably at his clumsiness. Steve continues on. “I had to crash the plane,” Steve says quietly, not quite able to meet Bucky’s eyes.  “Even though we were still on it… there wasn’t another way.”

Bucky looks confused. “So we died, right?” he asks. “Did they… revive us or something?”

“Or something,” Steve echoes with a wry smile. “Where I crashed us, it was cold. We froze, for seventy years and then they dug us back out.” Steve keeps his eyes on Bucky’s this time. The Sergeants lips are twisted down into a little frown, but he doesn’t look as desperately lost as Steve felt when he found out. “It’s a miracle we survived… especially you.”

Bucky is silent for a moment, taking it all in and processing it. “Like hell I’d let you have a romp in the future without me,” Bucky says finally, after a few moments. He smiles when Steve laughs, high and strung-out. Now that Bucky is here, Steve feels like he can finally let the overwhelming feeling of the situation overtake him. He doesn’t have to be strong and stoic anymore, because Bucky can see right through it.

Bucky coughs to get his attention again, his smile has waned a bit. “What about your girl, Peggy? Or the Commandos?” he asks like he already knows the answer.

“The Commandos all passed away a few years ago,” Steve says, fiddling with the sheet on the bed. “They lived a long time, Bucky. All natural causes.” It made him feel a little better to say that. That they all made it through without he and Bucky. Maybe it would help Bucky out too. “Peggy’s still alive, but…” he trails off, swallows and sighs. “But she’s had her whole life, Bucky. She’s old now. Doesn’t remember where she is, or what year it is half the time. She cries everytime she sees me, like it’s the first time…” He swallows again, working against the lump in his throat. Bucky has taken to rubbing his back softly.

“That’s… that’s rough,” Bucky says. He means it. Steve knows he liked Peggy too, but Bucky always had a stronger relation to the Commandos. Steve feels his hand on his back and thinks it should be the other way around. Bucky shouldn’t be comforting him. Bucky lost a lot more to time than Steve did. Steve’s family was dead before he stepped foot on the battle field, Bucky still had a sister. “Thinking too much, Steve Rogers.” Bucky pulls him out of his thoughts, hand forming a fist and thumping him.

“At least I still got you,” Steve says without thinking. The hand on his back stills for a moment.

“Of course you do,” Bucky says, managing to sound almost affronted. “I said so, didn’t I? ‘Till the end of the line.”

“Thought that was gonna be on the plane, to be honest,” Steve says plaintively. “I shouldn’t have gotten you into this mess.” That earns him a smack to the back of the head. “Hey!”

“Don’t say stupid shit,” Bucky says bluntly. “It was my decision to get on that plane with you. You did what you had to do and there’s no undoing it now.” This is the Bucky Steve has gotten to know from the war. Hardened by shit he couldn’t control or couldn’t stop, the realist. Steve’s a little jealous about how well he is taking it. “We wouldn’t have lived long enough to see this anyway, not with the jobs we had. Far as I’m concerned, we’re lucky.”

“You really think that, Bucky?” Steve asks. Did Bucky really live every day during the war thinking that he would die? “I would’ve kept you safe,” Steve says seriously. “We would’ve made it through.”

“But we didn’t, did we?” Bucky says, eying Steve incredulously. “We died on that plane. Would’ve died. It was all dumb luck.”

Steve is about to argue. Even if Bucky has logic on his side, Steve is stubborn and Bucky has a soft spot for him. He is interrupted by a knock on the door. Steve looks over to Bucky who nods at him and straightens his back.

“Yeah, come in,” Steve answers. The door is opened by Bruce, pushing an IV pole and holding some of the bags. He is followed by Natasha, holding the red first aid kit from earlier. They stop at the edge of the bed, Natasha laying the kit somewhere near Bucky’s feet.

Bruce looks up to regard Thor by the window with a little frown. “Did he stay here…?” he asks quietly, looking at Steve.

“It was fine, we didn’t mind him,” Steve looks at the IV pole and the bags. “Are all of those…?” he trailed off, looking at Bucky. Bucky was pointedly not looking at them.

“No, no. I wanted to keep a few in the room’s fridge, so I can change the bags without having to traverse four floors,” Bruce says with a soft smile. He was true to his word, walking over to a cabinet in the entertainment center and opening it, revealing a fridge. He set them inside carefully. “Jarvis, could you keep it cool enough for them?” he asks, as he makes his way back to the bed.

“Certainly, Doctor,” Jarvis replies succinctly. There is a click, probably the thermostat in the fridge changing temperature before Bruce speaks again.

“Bucky? I’m going to stick this in your arm.” Bruce holds up the tubing for his inspection. Bucky nods, but pales slightly. “It’s just tubing. I have to stick you with a needle, but it won’t stay in, it’s just for the tubing,” he continues to explain, breaking open the sterile packaging and fishing the needle out.

“Don’t gotta tell me,” Bucky repeats, keeping his gaze on Bruce’s face and not on the packaging.

Bruce smiles softly. “I know, it’s just procedure to tell you.” Steve knows it’s a lie, but Steve is grateful.

Steve distracts Bucky with a video on the T.V. as Bruce putters around him, assisted by Natasha. Thor turns to watch the video too.

By the time they are done, Bucky has the tubing hooked into the back of his hand, leading up to two bags hung on the pole and draining steadily into him. Bucky is exhausted, sagging into the pillows with his arm positioned obediently in the correct place.

“Think… think I’m gonna take a nap, if no one objects,” Bucky says, eyes fluttering with a sigh.

“Yeah, go ahead, Bucky,” Steve replies, resisting the urge to smooth Bucky’s hair back. “I’m just going to go out and check on Tony, alright?”

“Go for it,” Bucky says, lifting an arm to wave him off and then frowning when the tubing constricts some of his movements.

“Everyone makes their way out of the room and the Steve shuts the door behind him, reluctantly leaving Bucky to sleep.

“What—“ Bruce speaks up as soon as they are far enough from the door. “He is really… anxious… around me. He doesn’t know about the… other guy, does he?” When Steve shakes his head, Bruce sighs. “Steve, what happened to him? I need to know if I’m going to help him.”

Steve puffs out a sigh. “I think… I think it has something to do with his captivity with Hydra,” Steve begins. Then what Bruce said registers. “You’re going to be helping him? I thought you—“

“I… will probably still leave, as soon as I can,” Bruce corrects. “But Tony wants me to look at Bucky’s blood work, and he doesn’t trust SHIELD doctors.” He does not sound surprised. “He was captured by HYDRA?” Bruce prompts him to continue.

“When I first… My first time in the field, was to save Bucky. His unit got captured and when I found him…” Steve takes a breath, letting it out slowly. “They had him on a table, had been torturing him, or experimenting on him, probably both, I don’t know. Just… he’s never been too keen on needles since. Didn’t bother him before as much…”

Bruce sets an easy hand on his bicep. “It’s probably a combination of things. He woke up in a an unfamiliar place… time, actually, and if his hospital room is anything to go by, it wasn’t exactly a… peaceful awakening. He is bound to be anxious. It just seemed centered around the syringes, any injections, I was curious. Do you know what they did?”

“No, the base self-destructed,” Steve says. He is looking at his feet. “I think Zola took anything that had any real information and Bucky says he doesn’t know what they did.”

“It’s fine. I’m going to start looking at his blood and we can figure it out. I’d like a few samples of yours, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Do you… do you think something’s wrong? With his blood?”

Bruce glances back at Natasha, who raises an eyebrow at his speculative look. “I don’t know yet… Meet me after the debriefing and we’ll talk, okay?”

Steve hears the message between the words. Natasha is with SHIELD, the problem has something to do with Shield, and they can’t talk about it in front of Natasha. He nods. “So… you think Tony is done with his phone call?” Steve asks, realizing his transition is not exactly smooth.

“Sir would like you all to meet him in conference room three on the fifth floor,” Jarvis replies. “Director Fury wishes to talk about what your next steps are.”

The debriefing goes simply enough, the steps they are taking next, not so much. Thor is to take the Tesseract and his brother back to Asgard to receive punishment. Tony is going to keep housing Steve. After the clean-up, Clint and Natasha will return to doing missions for Shield and Bruce will leave. The subject of Bucky does not come up and no one mentions him. Afterwards he can hear Tony talking discretely to Clint and Natasha about keeping his awakening a secret until New York is cleaned up. Natasha, surprisingly, agrees and with her agreement comes Clint’s. They have time to check Bucky out before Shield does.

After everyone has retired to Tony’s guest rooms, Steve returns to Bucky, sneaking the door open as quietly as possible. Bucky is in the same place Steve left him, head angled slightly towards the door and mouth hanging open in sleep. Bucky is, surprisingly, not snoring, his elevated position might be to thank for that. Steve creeps inside, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Buck?” he whispers. Bucky grunts and rolls his head away. “Bucky?”

“What?” Bucky asks muzzily, eyes opening to slits. His eyes open a little wider when he realizes its Steve trying to wake him up. “What is it?” He starts to sit up. Steve applies pressure to keep him down.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, Bucky. I was just checking on you,” Steve admits. “How are you feeling?”

“Dandy,” Bucky says flatly. Steve lingers, keeping his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, fingers squeezing lightly. “Seriously, Steve, what’s wrong?”

“I… Can I…” Steve flounders, looking away from Bucky to look at the door. “Is it okay… if I…?”

Get in, Steve,” Bucky says. He is smiling softly and he scoots over a little for Steve as he takes his place next to Bucky.

“Sorry… I…” Steve begins to explain, but Bucky shushes him, rolling over slightly to look at him.

“Just like old times, Steve,” he says softly. “Only it was me sneaking into your bed.”

“Roles were reversed,” Steve comments. “My turn to take care of you.”

Bucky sighs and frowns. “Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can.”

“Hey, I don’t mind, it’s only—“

“I get it, don’t worry,” Bucky cuts him off. He is still frowning, but Steve doesn’t pursue it. Now that he is warm and he knows his friend is safe, he is tired.

“Go to sleep, Steve,” Bucky says, closing his own eyes and relaxing again into the pillows. Steve squirms for a few moments, tucking the blankets more securely around himself and Bucky. He closes his eyes and soon he is sleeping too

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my blog also has much Bucky on it](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/search/we're+up+all+night+to+get+bucky)


	6. It's a Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast in bed and mostly lazy morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, let me take a moment to thank you for all your feedback! It's really encouraging to see that people are enjoying my self-indulgent nonsense and I shall do my best to keep the chapters coming. I hope after this heartfelt message you all can forgive me for the delayed chapter and will not withhold feedback as punishment.
> 
> On another note: No one has told me to pick up the pace, so I'm going to keep it going as it is. I did say I wanted this to be long. I may want to add a 'slow-build' tag though...
> 
> This chapter's namesake is a song of the same name by Peggy Lee, used in the Agent Carter series.
> 
> Needles and blood warning for this chapter. They're described in a little more detail this chapter, nothing too graphic, but I figured I'd give you a heads up.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Bucky jerks awake to the sound of the door opening. He had been dozing lightly, content in the soft sunlight that lit the room and listening to Steve's breathing out of habit when it creaked. Whoever it was trying to come in was obviously trying to be quiet, but wasn’t trained in stealth. He sits up straighter, eyes landing on Tony who looks like he’s been caught with his hand down his pants. He stares at Bucky for a moment, eyes comically wide, before he reaches his hand up, placing a finger to his lips. _Be quiet_ , the message is clear. Bucky snorts.

“Steve could sleep through a train wreck,” Bucky says quietly, voice just above whispering. Steve continues to snore, one arm slung over his eyes, the other thrown haphazardly over Bucky’s stomach. He has also kicked the blankets down to his waist. Out behind enemy lines, Steve never slept like this, always tense and ramrod straight, but when Steve felt safe, back in Brooklyn, he slept like the dead. “What do you want?”

Despite Bucky’s assurances, Tony moves in closer before speaking in a whisper. “I have breakfast,” he says, motioning to a tray on a cart outside the room. “Can’t get out of bed, I was going to bring it to you.”

“While we were sleeping?” Bucky asks skeptically.

Tony shrugs helplessly. “I have an image to keep up, you know,” he says. He sounds like he is kidding, but Bucky is not entirely sure. “Tony Stark, bringing you breakfast in bed? Doesn't exactly fit.”

Bucky shrugs with one shoulder, careful not to knock Steve where he has his head resting partially underneath Bucky. “Apparently it does,” he says, nodding towards the cart. “Why not have someone else do it? Banner, or that Thor fella?” Something tells him Thor would be ecstatic to bring them food, as cheerful as he is.

“I don’t even want to try and wake that guy up,” Tony says thoughtfully. “And Banner’s been working on… stuff… since yesterday. He’s busy.”

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” Bucky says amicably. His lips twist into a smirk without him meaning for it.

“You better not, or this is the last time I’m bringing you food,” Tony threatens, pushing the cart into the room and leaving it next to Bucky. He looks at the cart, then to Bucky’s current lack of an arm and the tubing in the one he still has. “You… uh… need some help? While I’m still here?”

To prove that he doesn't need help, Bucky reaches over and plucks the lid off the tray and grabs a bowl of fruit. He balances the bowl between his legs and grabs a fork with his now free hand. He uses it to shovel a few pieces of fruit in his mouth before looking over at Tony. “Nope,” he says.

Tony raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, fine. Tell Steve Bruce needs him when he wakes up.” And with that, he is out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Bucky continues to eat his fruit, mindful of Steve’s arm slung over his abdomen and watching for signs of him waking up. If he was lucky, he would be able to finish eating before Steve saw him struggling with his new disability and, god forbid, insisted on spoon feeding him. He finishes the bowl of fruit, absently noticing that there are some pieces he has never seen before and many that don't belong in the same season. They taste good though, so he doesn’t put much thought into it.

He moves on to a bowl of oatmeal. There’s brown sugar and milk in it, and Bucky can’t remember the last time he had something like this. He takes a little less time eating it, savoring it. He is scraping the bottom of the bowl when Steve grumbles and moves his arm. He rolls over and tries to burrow further underneath Bucky and into the pillow. The punk had a whole set to himself and he still chose to take up most of Bucky’s side of the bed, as if to prove he took up a lot of space now.

“Mrrph,” Steve says into the pillow, pulling Bucky closer.

“Wanna say that again, pal?” Bucky asks, trying to pull Steve further into lucidity. Steve’s handsyness was fine when they were kids, but now that he can legitimately man-handle Bucky around, the Sergeant doesn’t want to end up on top of him. “I ain’t a pillow, kid.”

“Bucky…?” Steve asks, blinking his eyes open slowly. He looks up to observe their surroundings, finally noticing his arm looped around Bucky’s waist.

“Hey,” Bucky says pleasantly, as Steve gets his head in order. “Slept in here last night, remember?” he reminds him when it’s apparent Steve isn’t really sure what he is doing in a bed with him.

“Oh,” Steve says, sitting up and stretching. His shirt lifts up a bit and Bucky tries not to let his eyes linger more than necessary. Steve’s pants sit lower than usual, around his slim hips and there’s a little arch to his back just before the curve of his ass. Bucky forces his eyes up to Steve’s face just in time for him to look down. “Hey,” Steve greets, smiling goofily. “Didn’t steal the covers, did I?”

“More like my entire side of the bed,” Bucky complains good-naturedly. “Wouldn’t have needed the covers anyway, you’re like a furnace,” Bucky continues, reaching over to grab the tray and pull it closer. “Breakfast?”

“Someone brought us breakfast?” Steve asks, looking over at the tray curiously. Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve eyes the IV cords. As if Bucky could get up, go make oatmeal and cut up fruit with one arm and feet sliced to hell.

“Yeah, woke up just as they were on their way out,” Bucky lies. He won’t rat Stark out if he wants to keep up some bullshit façade, it’s not like Bucky isn’t doing the same thing.

Steve reaches over him, grabbing himself his bowls and then looking at the empty ones on the tray. “You already ate?” he asks. He sounds almost disappointed.

“Yeah, I was real hungry,” Bucky says. “Sorry, Steve,” he adds.

“No problem,” Steve says. After that he starts shoveling food in, as if he needs to make up for the missed time eating with Bucky. “This is good,” he comments after finishing his oatmeal.

“Don’t know how you tasted it,” Bucky teases. “Looks like you inhaled it all through our nose.”

Steve wrinkles said nose at him and continues eating at the same pace, proving some point, probably. Once he’s finished, Bucky offers to put his stacked bowls back on the tray. To his surpise, Steve agrees and lets him set them down.

“Oh!” Bucky says after a moment, drawing Steve’s attention away from… Bucky’s missing arm. “I…uh... Bruce said he needed you after you woke up,” he reports, trying not to let his self-consciousness show. “You should probably head over there.”

Steve tears his gaze away from his arm and looks him in the face. “Oh… yeah, okay,” he says, standing. He is wearing sweatpants and an undershirt that is several sizes too small and _Christ, who let him buy his own clothes?_ His hair is seven kinds of sleep mussed, but he just waltzes right for the door. “Alright, Bucky, I’ll see you in an hour or so. Do you nee—“

“You’re just going to go out there in nothing but your skivvies?”

“I’m wearing sweats,” Steve says, perplexed. He pauses for a moment, confused, trying to assess what he’s missing and then looks at his shirt. “Oh! This is okay to wear out now,” he tells Bucky with a smile. “It’s comfortable.”

“Don’t see how, it’s so tight,” Bucky grumps. Steve looks down at himself and tugs at the collar.

“Not really, Tony said its fine,” Steve says.

“And you’re going to trust a Stark’s fashion sense?” Bucky replies. He is unable to cross his arms, so he just leans his elbow on his folded knees, careful of the IV.

“What about my fashion sense?” Tony says, opening the door. “Knock knock, I heard you talking and I figured you’d be decent.”

“Steve tells me you’re letting him walk around in ill-fitting clothing,” Bucky reports, adopting an accusing tone that would make his mother proud.

Stark has the decency to look momentarily guilty before saying, with a completely straight face. “It’s supposed to fit like that.”

Bucky is wholly unconvinced. “What kinda joke are you playing, Stark? I know he makes a fine show for the dames, but he’s got to leave something up to the imagination.”

Steve is blushing now, red dusting his cheeks and even the tips of his ears. “Bucky, this is normal nowadays, dames aren’t gonna—“

“If you got it, flaunt it, I always say,” Stark interrupts, looking entirely unconcerned. “Plus, that’s pretty high talk coming from someone who’s wearing nothing but a hospital gown that opens in the back,” Stark points out.

Bucky is unabashed. “That’s proper for my situation,” he asserts. “Besides, this gown leaves more up to the imagination than that shirt,” he says, pointing at Steve’s chest with an accusing finger.

“We aren’t leaving the tower,” Tony says, waving off Bucky’s dismay. “Cap’s modesty will be preserved. Most people in the Tower have seen me in less. This…” He gestures to Steve’s torso. “Is nothing.”

Bucky is still frowning like Tony has just insulted his mother rather than just defended Steve’s fashion choices, so Steve intervenes. “Bucky, he’s right. We’re just going down to Bruce’s floor for a bit, and I’m going to have to change before we start the effort to rebuild New York. It’ll be fine,” Steve says with waning confidence.

Bucky gives a long suffering sigh. “Fine, Steve,” he says, resting his chin on his palm. “I’ll be here when you get back.” It was really meant to be a joke, but Steve’s face falls.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Steve assures. “Do you want me to get you anything before we leave?”

Bucky levels a look at Tony. “Where is that… that Stark top?” Bucky asks. Tony grins and nods, making his way over to the bedside table and pulling open a drawer. He roots around for a minute, before withdrawing a sleek, silver box and handing it to him.

“Set all your stuff in that drawer, but then Bruce piled a bunch of meds on top.” Bucky is feeling around the opening seam. Tony casually pops it open for him, and presses a button on the typewriter like bottom half. “This is how you turn it on, I’ll tell you how to turn it off later.” He wriggles an arm under Bucky’s own, and starts moving  his finger along the sleek, slightly darker surface, causing the little arrow on the screen to move around. “You can access the internet here.” He gives the same little multi-colored ball a click. “And then if you want to watch a movie or food, or whatever really, you can give Jarvis a call.”

“Certainly sir, I am at your service,” Jarvis chimes in.

“Welp,” Tony finishes, popping the ‘p.’ “Steve and I need to get going, so we’ll see you in an hour or so. Bruce will come back with us to check up on you.” He begins to usher Steve out of the room.

Steve pipes up with a “Bye, Bucky!” before the door swings shut.

Bucky sighs once they both leave, busying himself with the Stark top lap top. Navigating it is hard with one hand, but the machine seems built for ease and he is able to type as slowly as he needs to. Jarvis even tells him there is a ‘speech to text’ function, which is much easier than typing, though it comes up with some very off-the-wall words occasionally, it works well enough that he abandons the keyboard. He looks up Captain America, then Bucky Barnes, stumbles across news that both of them have been found and are living in Stark Tower, after being declared MIA in 1946 and then finally KIA in the early 2000s. He asks Jarvis if he can find him any articles from the time they crashed, and the AI brings up a multitude of articles from the 1940s. Most of them chronicle their crash, and the subsequent searches for them, but eventually they evolve into editorials and memorials. There’s even one on the opening of a monument to the Howling Commandos.

It’s surreal, Bucky is essentially looking at his own grave. People mourned for him and Steve. They became like legends, symbols of sacrifices made for freedom. It all floors him, when he shipped off to basic for the first time, he never imagined becoming a war hero, he was too realistic for that. More likely than not, he would get shot and sent home or be another nameless body on the field. The only people that would have remembered him would be Steve and his family. Maybe their neighbors if he was lucky. He had never expected to be remembered by the country, taught about in schools. He even had goddamn toys modeled after him.

He didn’t have the courage to try to dig up what happened to his mother and sisters, he would ask Steve later. Howard had died a while ago, in a car crash of all things, along with his wife. There was foul play suspected, but nobody could get any proof. Figures he would do something to get himself killed.

All of the Commandos were gone now, all passed away due to natural causes. It was bittersweet, they were gone, but at least they didn’t go violently. Maybe that’s not how they would have wanted it, but that’s definitely what Bucky would have wanted for them.

“Jarvis?” he calls, after he has finished catching up on while he was frozen. It had been an hour and Steve was a goddamn liar, but he couldn’t fault him for it.

“Yes, Sergeant?”  Jarvis replies. “What can I do for you?”

“Say… let’s watch a… film?” Bucky asks more than states. He motions towards the black screen that had been active the previous night. “Certainly, what would you like to watch?” he asks.

Something… from… my time? If you can?” he asks. He wants something familiar, not ready for too much just yet. Steve isn’t there, so he doesn’t have to maintain a brave face.

Jarvis rattles off a few names and Bucky names the first thing he has heard of and it immediately begins to play. Despite being initially enamored by the sound and quality, he soon dozes off.

 

As soon as Tony and Steve get far enough down the hall not to be heard, Tony begins prattling. “Well, he’s a piece of work! Not sure how you’re even friends, he’s actually funny.”

Steve immediately frowns, the warm feeling from waking up to Bucky falling away to annoyance at Tony. “I’m funny, just not with you,” he says coldly.

“Really? Huh,” Tony comments, completely missing Steve’s tone. “I’ll have to keep an eye out. Or maybe I should ask Bucky,” he ponders. “Anyway, Bruce thinks he found some… stuff in Bucky’s blood. Some of it matches what was left in his IV, but some of it doesn’t.”

Steve’s annoyance immediately dissolves. “Drugs from Shield?” he asks urgently. They have been offering him a position, special ops, a lot like what he had been doing during the war. If they had been drugging Bucky, however, he would not be taking them up on their offer.

“Maybe…” Tony says vaguely. “He… he thinks it’s some other stuff, though. We need some blood samples from you to run and then we can find out.”

Steve eyes Tony critically. The man doesn’t seem particularly excited, more pensive. Steve has an inkling as to where this is going and he doesn’t like it. He waits until they board the elevator to say something.

“The… Do you think it’s the serum?” Steve asks, searching Tony’s face for answers.

“We aren’t sure yet,” Tony says determinedly. “Gotta run the tests first. I might seem impulsive, but you don’t screw around with this,” he continues. “But… it would explain how he survived the crash and why Shield would want him comatose… perfect test subject and all that…” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “My question Is, how did he get exposed to it? Nothing in the files says anything about him being a part of the project.”

Steve chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “He wasn’t,” he finally says. “He got captured… a prisoner of war before I got to him. They… Zola was experimenting on him when I found him… maybe…” Steve can’t really continue, overcome with images of Bucky on the table again, repeating his serial number.

“We’ll look at it,” Tony says briskly. The elevator doors slide open and they step out onto Tony’s lab floor. Bruce has taken up residence in one of the many glass walled rooms, and Tony leads him down the hall. “Could be nothing, maybe just some weird stuff in the IV. We’ll see, we haven’t ran any tests yet,” Tony quickly assures him. They turn down one more hall and a set of doors open accommodatingly.

Bruce is already waiting for them, dressed in a white lab coat and wearing latex gloves. His syringes are neatly laid out on a tray next to him, needles safely packed away in a separate container. He smiles softly when he sees Steve. “Good morning,” he says, standing to greet them as they enter.

“Good morning,” Steve replies with a nod. Bruce ushers them in further, motioning for Steve to sit.

“Just sit there, please,” he says. Tony pulls himself a comfier looking office chair over, the plush seating contrasting with the plastic of his and Bruce’s own chairs. Bruce gives him a look and Tony shrugs.

“What? I’m all the way over here. You get bodily fluid over here and there’s a problem,” Tony says, crossing his arms as he sits down. Thankfully, ‘it’s my chair’ goes unsaid.

“Alright…” Bruce turns his attention away from Tony to regard Steve. “I’m just going to take some blood today. Tony has explained the situation to you…?” he asks, cleaning a spot in the crook of Steve’s proffered elbow.

“Yes. Do what you need to, Doctor Banner,” Steve replies swiftly. Banner pricks him with the needle on the syringe, pulling the plunger back. Steve watches as the body fills with blood before turning his gaze back to the doctor.

“Bruce is fine,” Bruce tells him, detaching the needle from the syringe and setting the body in a container. “I’m going to need four of these, is that alright?”

“Of course,” Steve replies. He sits there, watching as Bruce pulls vial after vial of blood, setting it into the little carrying case. Tony has busied himself with something on his ever-present Stark tab, tapping away at the little screen. Music had started playing at some point as well.

The rare silence gives Steve time to think about Bucky, what the super serum will mean for him… for them. It doesn’t seem to have drastically changed Bucky, like it did Steve or the Red Skull, but still, it makes Steve nervous. What if something Shield did triggered an adverse effect? How _had_ the serum affected Bucky?

“How long will it take to run this, Tony?” Bruce’s voice pulls Steve out of the daze he has worked himself into. He looks up to see Bruce carefully packing away the four vials and carrying them to another part of the lab.

“Jarvis?” Tony asks, glancing up from his tab to watch Bruce’s progress across the room. “Got an estimate?”

“To compare abnormalities, less than half an hour, Sir,” Jarvis replies primly. “To isolate and identify those abnormalities will take approximately an additional hour and a half.” Bruce nods and sets the case on the counter next to the machine. He leaves to go to the tiny fridge in the room, grabbing another case. When he opens this one, it’s full of more vials, much more than what he took from Steve. Bruce catches his gaze and gives him a small frown.

“The… uh… Shield doctor collected these. He didn’t take them when he evacuated,” Bruce explains. He carefully picks out a vial before shutting the case. “Maybe they didn’t know what, but they definitely knew something was off. I’ve already isolated some unknown chemicals, but I want to compare them to your blood.” He doesn’t explain his reasoning, but Steve doesn’t need him to.

“If you find traces of the… the serum, what will you do to Bucky?” Steve asks suspiciously as Bruce sets the vial into a container within the machine. He presses a few buttons on the outside after shutting the door and the device begins to hum.

Bruce eyes him warily. “Nothing,” he begins carefully. “I only want to isolate the unknown substances in his blood and figure out if Shield was drugging him,” he continues. He is leaning up against the counter, arms crossed, posture closed off. Steve feels bad for doubting him, if anyone understands the kind of danger Bucky is in, it’s Bruce. “After what we uncovered about Shield on the Helicarrier…. I want to see what else they’re hiding,” he admits, looking sheepish. “We need to know if there’s anything latent that will affect Bucky…” he trails off, obviously intending to say more, but holding back.

“Do you think they’ll try to use him as leverage?” Steve asks nervously. They had seemed incredibly intent on having Steve on their special ops team, if they had planted something on Bucky to make it so Steve had no choice… “Would they really do that?” Steve asks desperately.

“Something tells me that not everyone sees eye to eye at Shield,” Tony interrupts. “But the higher-ups definitely seemed intent on keeping Bucky sedated and in Shield custody. Something’s definitely fishy about that.”

Steve nodded, losing himself in thought. Bruce continues watching the machine, while Tony keeps tapping at his tablet. “This stuff is really encrypted, like, several levels worth of encrypted,” Tony says a few minutes later. Steve turns to go and peer at what he’s doing on the tablet. To Steve, it is pretty much unintelligible, lots of screens and lines of words and symbols that seem nonsensical. Tony is obviously in his element though, intent and focused, tapping at lightning speed. “Wish there were  holoscreens installed in here…” he comments absently before looking up at Steve, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “Shield files, the high level stuff, all encrypted to a level that surpasses the skills of the most professional and experienced hackers. Why would they need to encrypt this so heavily? Unless it’s something they don’t want me to find.” He continues with his work, a little furrow of concentration between his brows.

“You’re a hacker?” Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m a lot of things,” Tony replies flippantly. “I wouldn’t… exactly… call myself a hacker though.”

“You _are_ hacking,” Bruce jabs. He is also engrossed in something on his tablet.

“Doesn’t make me a hacker,” Tony defends. “I’m a… digital vigilante… right now,” he decides, closing a window with a theatrical finger. Bruce rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond.

Bruce turns to Steve. “Did you want to stay and wait for the results, or go back to Bucky? I can have Jarvis call you with the results,” he asks kindly.

“If I may, Sergeant Barnes is currently asleep. He fell asleep shortly after requesting that I play a movie for him. It may be advisable to let him rest,” Jarvis cut in smoothly.

Tony smiles. “Aw… isn’t that cute?” he says. Steve still looks worried. “Don’t look so constipated, Cap, Bruce said the drugs might still be affecting our friend Bucky Bear.”

“…You use that nickname a lot… what is it?” Steve asks, confused. Tony stares at him for a moment before starting to type on his tablet.

“Come here, Rogers, you need to see this,” he says. “Look!” He offers the tablet up and Steve takes it. On it, is a photograph of a stuffed Teddy Bear wearing Bucky’s coat. The other pieces of the uniform are more akin to Steve’s, but the coat is recognizably modeled after Bucky’s. “You know how you had comics? Well, after a while, they added Bucky in as a character. He wore something similar to what you did, doesn’t look much like his historic uniform, but it’s close.”

“They made him into a stuffed bear?” Steve asks quietly. “What about the other Commandos?” He is now actively scrolling through the rest of the images.

“They made a Captain Ameribear too, but it wasn’t as popular for some reason. Probably because Bucky was… squishier… in the comics.”

“Squishier,” Steve echoes, incredulous. He flicks through several more photographs before landing on a set with Bucky Bear and Captain Ameribear.

“’Squishier’ as in sixteen years old,” Bruce cuts in. He has himself sat at one of the sleek desks, working both on paper and digitally.

“Aw… Bruce! I wanted to tell him!” Tony protests. Steve takes a moment to realize they are serious.

“It was illegal for someone under eighteen to join the military,” he says flatly.

“It’s comic books, Cap, they don’t care. The kids don’t care,” Tony explains. “Weren’t exactly accurate, both of you said things like ‘gee wilikers!’” He takes a moment to laugh.

“I think they wanted to give the kids someone to relate to…” Bruce says, not looking up from his work. “Bucky just ended up… being that.”

“Wait ‘til Bucky hears about this,” Steve says, smiling softly. “You know… he hated my uniform. Teased me about it all the time. Now I have something on him.” He full on laughs then.

“Don’t tell him yet!” Tony shouts, nearly falling out his chair. “I want to tell him. I didn’t get to tell you!” He is childish in his enthusiasm and Steve is stunned. He hasn’t ever seen this part of Tony before. Childish, yes, but not in this way.

“Alright,” Steve says. “He’ll believe you more than he’ll believe me anyway.”

“Seeing is believing, Cap,” Tony corrects. “I’m gonna show him.”

Bruce is watching Tony now, a small smile on his lips. “Do you own the comics?” he asks, though it is obvious he already knows the answer.

“Duh, I was a rich kid,” Tony says. That doesn’t explain it completely, in Steve’s opinion. “Even if I didn’t you can get almost all of them digitally. You know what, do that, Jarvis. Ease of access.” Jarvis utters an affirmative. “I’ll put them somewhere everyone can find. Have fun.”

“Tony—“ Steve starts to protest, but Tony holds up a hand.

“It was probably less than two hundred dollars, I have hundreds of two hundred dollars, don’t worry about it,” he says firmly.

“I have filed the comics into the entertainment folder on the public server, sir.” Jarvis says afterwards and a little window pops open on the tablet in Steve’s hand. “You can just select them and open them, they appear to be formatted for ease of reading.”

“Good boy, Jarvis,” Tony praises. He points to the tablet in Steve’s hands. “Gimme,” he says, making grabby hands. “You can get your own. In fact, you have your own, go get it.”

“It’s on my floor, and I don’t want to disturb Bucky,” Steve protests. Though he doesn’t mind being without a tablet. He would rather read the comics with Bucky. “Do you have any paper… and a pencil or pen?”

Bruce looks up and motions towards his desk. “Tony doesn’t have much in the way of… non-digital office supplies, but I prefer working on paper. Help yourself.” He gives Steve an encouraging smile.

Steve makes his way over and Bruce opens a drawer with neatly organized paper and mechanical pencils. He takes about five sheets and one of the pencils before sitting at another one of the desks and starting to doodle. He draws Tony first, sat with his feet on Steve’s vacated stool with an intense look of concentration on his face. Then he draws Bruce, catching him mid-discussion with Tony.

As his pencil scratches across the paper, his thoughts wander to Bucky and how strange he has been acting. It could be because of any number of things, but it still concerns him. Bucky is his friend, the only friend he has left from before the ice, and he wants to make sure Bucky is healthy and happy. He can't do that if Shield is intent on experimenting on him, hurting him. He won't let them, even if he has to tear down the entire organization. It isn't the first time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Have some Stony](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/search/stony%20for%20Abby)


	7. Atlantic City Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an abundance of misunderstandings and hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, sorry for that incredibly long hiatus, as soon as April hit everyone decided it'd be cool to assign all of the homework. Now I am home free and depending on my speed with this story, you may look hopefully forward to twice weekly updates.
> 
> Chapter title from Agent Carter again, because there aren't very many 'light' songs in the MCU soundtracks for some reason. Fits less with the mood of the chapter and more of my exasperation with these enormous man-children.
> 
> Other than that, I would like to thank you all for all your feedback and support and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Bucky comes awake shivering, damp with a cold sweat and entirely alone. His arm hurts, or rather, his lack of one and although the drugs weren’t working wonderfully before, they aren’t working now. He lets loose a low keening noise, holding his stump close to his body. He curls up, knees towards his chest, watching sweat drip from the tip of his nose and onto the blankets beneath him.

“I will alert Doctor Banner to your condition, Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis’s voice cuts through his misery.

“No… no wait, just…” Bucky pants. He makes a cut-off groaning noise. “Just… just scared me, think I bumped it.” Despite the sweat, he is freezing, shivering uncontrollably. The blankets are in disarray, even more than from Steve.

“I believe that is the case, Sergeant,” Jarvis replies easily. “Doctor Banner is on his way with something for the pain.”

“Steve?” he asked, using the blankets to mop at the sweat, while simultaneously wrapping them around himself.

“The Captain is on his way, as well as Mr. Stark,” Jarvis replies. Bucky curses, feeling way too vulnerable for that many people.

He uses his right hand to push his sweat soaked hair back, trying to look at least partially put together as Bruce opens the door, calm and soft, followed by Tony and then Steve who both look like they sprinted. Bruce smiles softly at him, though there is an underlying concern in his eyes. He is holding another syringe and he heads straight for Bucky’s IV port while Steve makes a beeline for him and Tony stands awkwardly by the door.

When Steve is upon him, Bucky finds his face titled towards the blonde, meeting bright blue and worried eyes. “Jarvis said you were hurting,” he says quietly. Bucky nods. He shouldn’t be ashamed of hurting, but he is.

“Yeah, uh… bumped my arm,” he said. Bruce stands back from the IV line, and Bucky looks over to him. Bruce smiles at him again.

“The pain should fade soon,” he says, capping the syringe.

Bucky nods weakly and leans back. Steve looks at him worriedly, and Tony, who Bucky just noticed had gone missing, returns with a towel. He catches the man’s eyes, quirking a small smile.

“Not _that_ sweaty, Stark,” he teases breathily, but holds his hand out for the towel anyway. Tony hands it over.

“So not all of that is sweat?” Tony asks, implications obvious in his voice. Steve makes a clearly offended noise, but Bucky laughs, running the towel through his hair and down his neck.

“I walked into that one,” he admits, wrapping the towel around his shoulders, hoping to further pad the warmth.

“Are you cold?” Steve asks, clearly concerned. He has sat himself on the side of the bed, leaving Tony to loiter awkwardly in front of his knees. “Do you have a fever?” Bucky dodges the hand aimed at his forehead, giving Steve a meaningful look that has the blonde moving his hand away as if burned.

“I’m freezing,” Bucky admits, rolling up tighter. “But I’m pretty sure if I had a fever, Jarvis would tell you.” He didn’t know much about the AI, but he knew enough from his short time that Jarvis monitored, at the very least, his respiration.

“Indeed,” Jarvis says helpfully. “Aside from an elevated heart rate, Sergeant Barnes is in perfect condition. It merely seems he is experiencing a fear reaction.”

Bucky winces, resisting the urge to glare at the ceiling. Steve’s doing that thing where a furrow forms between both his brows and he looks just this side of crying. “Nightmare?”  Steve asks in concern, and Bucky nods, shrugging his good shoulder.

“We all get them, Steve, ain’t no big deal.” He tries a smile, but it doesn’t erase that constipated worried look on Steve’s face.

“Most of us don’t thrash around and hurt ourselves, or sweat like we’ve been running laps,” Steve points out.

“Never watched yourself sleeping then,” he says and then immediately regrets it. It would have been fine if they were both alone, Steve is not fragile, physically or emotionally, but his ego is. Steve opens his mouth to say something, but someone speaks up before him.

“Shower,” Tony says, clapping. “You want a shower, Barnes? Will probably warm you up. We have waterproof dressing, right Bruce?” Bruce nods, looking as grateful as Bucky feels. He exits the room quickly to go fetch it.

“Jarvis, get the bathroom ready,” Tony instructs. He worms his way into the spot Bruce was, fiddling with the IV.

“He needs that,” Steve comments, concern back into his voice. Tony still disconnects the tube from the port in Bucky’s hand and stands thinking for a moment. “Hey! Stark! Tony!” Steve’s hand closes round Tony’s shoulder and he flinches out from under it.

“He can’t take the IV with him, can he?” Tony says, sounding irate. “It’s practically empty anyway.” He procures plastic wrap from the bedside table and tears a sheet off. “We’ll hook him right back up after.”

“Did Bucky even say he wanted one?” Steve asks, and Tony pauses, looking to Bucky.

“I didn’t say no,” Bucky says, but Steve still has that look on his face, so he sighs. “I want a shower. How could I not? I’m soaked in sweat.” He sits up a little straighter, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Immediately Steve is doting again.

“Do you want help?” Steve asks, moving into Bucky’s space, hands at the ready.

Bucky grimaces and grits his teeth. “No, Steve, I’m missing an arm, not a leg.” He drops his feet to the floor and takes a step.

Both Steve and Tony crowd forward at that point, Steve’s voice shouting “But your fe—“ cutting himself off as Bucky starts to crumple.

Right, his feet, he had forgotten about that. Surprisingly, the pain isn’t too bad, but his legs don’t seem to think so, immediately folding. “Woah there,” Tony yelps, catching him around the waist with both arms. It’s awkward, because Tony is a tad shorter than him, but Tony must do a lot of heavy lifting because he easily directs Bucky back onto the bed.

“Forgot,” Bucky gasps as he sits again.

“Yeah, figured,” Tony says, not condescending, but understanding. “We’ll have Bruce take a look at them when he gets back.” He pats Bucky on the shoulder as he sinks back into the covers.

Bucky feels mortified, even if Steve and Tony don’t seem to find his mistake humorous. “That was embarrassing,” he says quietly.

“You just forgot,” Steve is quick to say. Tony looks over to him with an odd expression, but nods in agreement.

“No big deal, happens to the best of us. I mean, it’s usually when we’re drunk, but you’re high as a kite, so it can be excused,” Tony adds.

“Right,” Bucky says. He opens his mouth to say more, but Jarvis cuts him off.

“The blood test has finished and the results are in, sir. Dr. Banner is checking them now,” he says calmly.

Bucky looks between Steve and Tony. Steve looks pinched, but interested, and Tony looks like this is the most exciting thing he has heard all day.

“What are the results?” Bucky asks, unsure.

“Dr. Banner has said he will go over the results after you have showered,” Jarvis replies. Tony taps his lips with a finger and nods.

“Alright, well, I’m going to get you better clothes,” Tony says, quickly exiting the room, leaving Steve and Bucky in silence.

They stare at each other for a long minute, Steve absently chewing his lip. “Are you okay?” Steve asks, looking him over critically. “You didn’t hurt your feet?”

“Fine,” Bucky replies shortly. He pauses, thoughtful before speaking again. “Look… sorry—“

“It’s fine, you’re hurting. Be glad you weren’t awake when I first woke up, I was worse than you,” Steve says, shooting him a smile.

Bucky can’t find it in himself to be happy about that. “Woulda’ still wanted to be there,” he said. “Twenty-first century, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, eyes going distant. “Didn’t think we’d make it this far.”

“Technically didn’t,” Bucky replies easily. “All our friends are dead.”

Steve flinches. “Not that we had many anyway… I mean, you had the dames, but…” he trails off, sighing heavily. “Still hurts like a bitch, though,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. He looks at his one hand, then up to Steve, whose eyes are lingering on him in a wistful kind of way. Before he knows what is happening, he is being folded into a hug, tight, but not uncomfortable.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Steve says into his ear. His voice is shaky, and Bucky finds himself having to swallow back a lump forming in his throat.

“Glad to be awake,” Bucky says quietly. “As… surreal… as this all is.” He brings his flesh hand up to rub between Steve’s shoulders. He used to hurt there as a little guy, and then when he got bigger it was where he held all his tension. “Relax, punk, we’re fine.”

“We’re not,” Steve says, burying his face into Bucky’s good shoulder.

“We will be,” Bucky insists, even if he doesn’t really believe it. “… We’ll figure something out.” He isn’t sure, but it feels like Steve is crying, shoulders quivering softly and making soft snuffling sounds into his shoulder. Steve hasn’t cried since his mother died, at least not like this. Bucky runs a hand through blond hair, ruffling it softly.

“I wanna go home, Bucky,” Steve says, quiet and mournful.

“I know,” Bucky says, feeling his own eyes burn. “Me too.”

 

Tony meets Bruce in the hallway, carrying a pair of Steve’s sweats and his own t-shirt. At Bruce’s questioning look, Tony shrugs, unabashed. “What? Figured he’d want to get out of his bare-assed hospital gown.”

“I’m more curious about how you knew where Steve keeps his comfy clothes,” Bruce says pointedly. Tony refuses to be embarrassed by it.

“I had Jarvis show me,” he lies. “One of the perks of having an omniscient AI.”

“With all due respect, sir, I have not yet achieved omniscience, my knowledge is limited to that of the data on the internet and our own personal servers,” Jarvis snarks.

“Yeah, yeah, like I said ‘omniscient AI,’” he put the words within air quotes this time. Bruce rolls his eyes.

They begin walking through the hallway together, Bruce fidgeting nervously, agitated.

“What’s the problem, Jolly Green?” Tony asks amicably, eyeing the scientist with something close to open concern.

“He’s positive,” Bruce blurts. “Bucky, that is.”

“For…?” Tony prompts, eager to find out if his suspicions about Shield are correct. “Pregnancy? Come on, Bruce.”

“I should… really wait, but…” Bruce scrubs a hand over his face. “He… uh… his blood content matches Steve’s, not identical, but… definitely some version of the serum. The drugs too, most of them are illegal compounds, some heavy duty sedative. No wonder he’s been sleeping so much, I’m surprised he’s even lucid.”

“So… what kind of serum? Like yours…?” Tony prompted, running a hand over his chin. It’s not like he couldn’t handle two big, mean green machines, but it would be nice to know.

“No… no… It’s like Steve’s, just… it hasn’t had the proper catalyst yet. It’s still active… The… the pain medication probably hasn’t been working.” Bruce is looking down with a guilty frown.

“Not your fault. He isn’t exactly a beefcake like Steve, not like you could have known,” Tony reasons. “Speaking of, why isn’t he souped up like Steve? I mean, he’s no lightweight, but he isn’t super-sized either.”

“Given the opportunity to build muscle mass, he could bulk up. Exposure to vitarays might produce similar results,” Bruce says. “Proper diet, rigorous exercise, plus the serum... It looks like it yields the same results as vitarays, just not as fast.”

“So the only reason they popped Steve in the microwave was to speed the results. Instant super soldier,” Tony muses. He figured as much, but he is an engineer, not a biochemist.

“Yes, that seems to be the case,” Bruce concurs. He is still frowning, looking distant and concerned. “They were keeping him sedated to experiment on him,” Bruce says, dangerously quiet. “They didn’t get very far, but…” He chews his lips, eyes flashing a faint green. Tony immediately places a firm hand on his shoulder. Bruce lets out a breath, looking thankfully over at Tony. “We were working for them,” Bruce breathes. “They… Steve was working for them. He trusted them.”

“Wouldn’t say that. Why do you think Bucky was here and not there? Though I’m pissed they managed to fuck with Barnes right under my damn nose. No respect.” Despite the flippancy of Tony’s tone, he is more than angry. “Jarvis, don’t let that slimy bastard back into my Tower, do whatever you have to.”

“Of course, Sir,” Jarvis replies smoothly.

Tony grins wickedly. “Get video, I want to see it.”

Jarvis makes an affirmative noise. Tony turns his attention back to Bruce. “Mind playing doctor with Barnes for a little while? No one’s honestly more qualified than you, and I’ll pay.”

Bruce looks over at him thoughtfully. “You don’t have to pay me, Tony,” he says softly.

“Then how about room and board?” Tony replies quickly.

“Tony… you know I can’t,” Bruce says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not…”

“I think you are,” Tony insists. “We need you. Steve and I can’t handle Barnes’s recovery on our own, and there is no way in hell I’m asking Shield for help,” he says, reasonable. Bruce makes a face. “We can equip the Tower for the Hulk, Bruce, not that we need to. At least… until we know what to do about Bucky and the serum. Stay until then.” He knows he has taken on a business like persona, convincing Bruce to stay.

“Tony, it’s… it’s not safe. I had more than just Shield following me,” Bruce continues to reason. “If… if anything, I’m more of a liability staying with Bucky. Those people… they… they would love to have a super soldier that couldn’t fight back. That’s what they wanted to begin with.”

Tony makes a show of thinking it over, but then makes a dismissive gesture. “This Tower is virtually impenetrable, at least for espionage purposes. If you’re really worried about it Jarvis can ‘move’ you every couple of months.” He continues to eye Bruce, who still looks unsure, unconvinced. “Bruce, you know what happens when the serum is misused. I need you to help me.” It’s almost painful to admit, but it seems to do the trick.

“Until Barnes is stable,” Bruce cautions, looking Tony in the eye. “Then we can… talk… about what happens after.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to stay after,” Tony says confidently. “I’m very persuasive. And my labs are nice.”

They arrive at Bucky’s room then, Bruce knocks like the polite human being he is, and waits until there is a short ‘come in’ called from inside the room. When Tony and Bruce opened the door, Bucky and Steve are looking a bit too innocent; they are sitting a comfortable distance apart, Steve’s hand on Bucky’s back. Tony could make out the red puffiness to Steve’s eyes and the deflated quality to Bucky’s shoulders. They had obviously had a pretty emotional heart to heart in Bruce and Tony’s absence. He probably shouldn’t be as thankful for that as he feels.

“We come bearing gifts,” Tony announces, setting the clothing on the bed. “We’ll get you your own clothes soon, Bucky Bear, but for now you’ll have to deal with hand-me-downs,” he says apologetically. Bruce weaves around them and sets the first aid kit on the bed, withdrawing some plastic wrap-looking material out of the kit, along with a roll of tape.

“We can just put this over your current dressing and change it after your shower,” Bruce says. Bucky offers his stump over with a pinched look. “How is your arm feeling now? Still hurting?” Bruce asks casually. Though Tony knows it is a loaded question. Of course it’s hurting him, it took heavy doses of illegal and dangerous sedatives to keep him down, like a shot of morpheme is going to work.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says and Tony admires his ability to lie through his teeth. Barnes proceeds to not flinch as Bruce wraps the waterproof dressing tightly over the old bandaging and tapes it down. “You need to do my feet too?” he asks.

“Yes,” Bruce says, already kneeling down to get to them. “The stiches can’t get wet.” He frowns, making a disapproving noise at the red that’s bled through the bandaging. “Have you been walking?”  Bruce asks, looking up at Bucky with an unimpressed frown.

“I… uh… they weren’t hurting me, so I forgot,” Bucky says, rubbing his right hand through his hair sheepishly. “Won’t happen again, Doc.”

“Bruce is fine,” Bruce corrects succinctly. “And it would be good if you… didn’t do that again,” he says, as he unwraps the dressings and checks his feet. “Are they hurting you now?”

“No,” Bucky replies, almost too quickly. “Gave me meds, remember, Bruce?” he says, tilting his head.

“They might hurt you through the medication,” Bruce reasons. “It doesn’t look like you popped any of the stitches, just reopened a few of the cuts.” The relief is audible in his voice, and Steve relaxes slightly. He replaces the bloodied gauze with new, white gauze before wrapping Bucky’s feet in the waterproof material as well. “Have Steve or Tony or I help you if you need to get out of bed, okay?”  Bruce asks, though it’s clear it isn’t a request.

“Sure thing,” Bucky says. “Steve, mind helping me to the bathroom?” Tony can sense a bit of a sardonic tone in Bucky’s voice and winces inwardly.

“Of course, Bucky, anything you need,” Steve says. He takes Bucky’s good arm over his shoulders, helping his friend limp to the bathroom. Tony stays where he is, Bucky probably doesn’t want an audience, as much as it might interest Tony. He can just glimpse Bucky's slim shoulders and curve of his ass through the slit in the back of hospital gown. And shit, where did that come from? He tears his eyes away from the two retreating super soldiers to see Bruce looking at him strangely.

“What?” he asks, a tad hostile.

Bruce shrugs and looks away to start clearing the medical stuff away. “We may need a biohazard bin in here,” he says, even as he threw the bloodied gauze in the bedside trashcan.

“You and I both know Bucky doesn’t have any kind of blood disease, so I think we’re fine,” Tony says. “But sure, Bruce, whatever you want. It’ll be here this afternoon.” He trusts Jarvis to take that as an order. “How long do you think Bucky will be in there?”

“Do you remember Steve’s first hot shower?” Bruce asks with a funny look.

“A while, then,” Tony says decisively. He heads out of the room, expecting Bruce to follow. They need to hammer out the conditions of Bruce’s stay.

Behind the privacy of the bathroom door, the hospital gown comes off without much trouble, that’s probably the purpose of the thing. It slides off Bucky easily, larger sleeves barely brushing the bandaged mess of his stump. “Since when can you not get stitches wet?” Bucky asks, as Steve fiddles with the knobs on the shower.

The shower that Tony has is bigger than anything Bucky has ever seen, at least outside of the army. It is huge, tiled with little stained glass pieces making some kind of abstract sea floor mural. Surrounding the walls is an outcropping that both would allow one to sit under the spray and away from it.

“I think it’s always been a rule,” Steve says. “You just never followed it.” He sounds disapproving, but has a smile curving his lips as he stands up. He immediately begins disrobing, pulling his shirt over his head in one quick motion.

“Hey, what are you doing? I’m the one showering here,” Bucky says, with a little too much urgency.

“I don’t doubt for a second that you can’t take care of yourself, Buck,” Steve says, leaving his shirt in a heap on the floor next to Bucky’s gown. “But I’m not going to leave you alone in a room that’s wet and slick with injured feet.”

“I can sit,” Bucky says, pointing to the outcropping. “You could just help me into the shower and leave me,” he reasons.

Steve frowns at him. “Bucky, we’ve bathed together before. Besides, I need a shower too.” And ain’t that some logic there.

He and Steve have bathed together before, but not alone. When they were kids, Steve’s or his ma was there, and as adults, they had always been with at least five other men and the water had been cold. The aim there had been to just get clean as quickly as possible, never mind having Steve nearby.

“I know… but,” Bucky protests, but is cut off by Steve’s huff.

“No buts, I’m not leaving you in here by yourself,” Steve says, though he pauses, mid-way through pulling off his sweats. “If you… want me to get Bruce… or Tony, I can though. If you would rather one of them…”

Bucky immediately deflates. “No, no, it’s fine. Rather you than either of them,” he says, absolutely hating how helpless he is. How devoid of self-control he is.

“I can sit outside the shower if you want, just in case you need me,” he offers, and Bucky lets out a sigh.

“It’d be more awkward having you watch me shower than showering along with me. Come on, help me in,” Bucky says, offering Steve his good arm.

Steve quickly removes his sweats, leaving them on the floor in favor of getting to Bucky faster. He slides underneath Bucky’s arm like it’s his natural place to be and lifts him gently off the counter. They walk alternatively, Bucky limping on each foot, before they reach the bench and Steve lets him down slowly. As if sensing their entry into the stall, the water switches on, a warm spray pouring over their heads. It soaks them both in a matter of seconds. Bucky looks up through his hair, now covering his eyes, at the wide shower head and closes his eyes.

“It’s so warm,” he breathes, tipping his head back.

“Mm-hm,” Steve hums, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky doesn’t hear him move, so he peaks an eye open at him, keeping it stubbornly trained on the blonde’s face.

Steve is staring at him, a little frown twisting his lips and a furrow between his brows. Worry, or pity maybe. Steve is obviously not looking at his face, since he hasn’t seemed to have noticed that Bucky’s eyes are open and looking at him. Bucky is suddenly very self-conscious, completely convinced Steve is staring at his stump. Bucky clears his throat, angry this time.

“My eyes are up here, Steve,” he says, tone clearly communicating his distaste.

Steve’s eyes snap up to Bucky’s face and he looks shocked before he flushes red from his chest up to his ears. “S-sorry, Bucky,” he stutters, looking down.

Bucky himself looks away then, shamefaced, at his own stump. He grabs a cloth sitting on the bench and some soap sitting on a small shelf about at shoulder’s height from the bench. He scrubs, frustrated, at skin that has survived being frozen for seventy years, but is still somehow not entirely whole. The cloth runs roughly over scars, evidence of a hard fought war, covering a body that’s missing pieces. He is simultaneously glad and jealous that Steve doesn’t hold such scars. Not even the ones he had before the war remain. Steve is pristine and untouched and completely whole. That thought makes him bitter, and then sends him spiraling down into guilt.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, a hand comes up to him from scrubbing the skin of his left shoulder raw. “I…I think it’s clean.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to the blonde’s and the hand over his loosens its grip a bit. Steve’s hair is sudsy, white bubbles running down one side of his face and his eyes still have that worried quality to them. “Are you… okay?” Steve asks.

“It itches,” Bucky says, eyes burning inexplicably. “Must be from the stitches.”

Steve runs a painfully gentle hand over his red, raw and scarred skin. “We’ll tell Bruce about it after,” Steve decides. His eyes linger there and his thumb runs over Bucky’s collarbone. “That okay? He can check for infection.”

“Okay,” Bucky says meekly. “Can I… the shampoo,” he asks. Steve understands and grabs the bottle, squeezing the liquid into Bucky’s hand. “Thanks,” he chokes out, before going about the task of washing his hair one-handed. He hears the sound of Steve rinsing off, and then there are hand joining his own in his hair.

“This okay?” Steve asks, using his fingers to rub at Bucky’s scalp.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, he leans back a little, giving Steve better access. Steve takes a place next to him on the bench, both washing Bucky’s hair and messaging his scalp.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Steve says. His voice is strained, but his hands are gentle.

“Not it’s not,” Bucky replies, then bites his lip. “It’s fucked up.” Bucky is fucked up.

“Not gonna argue with you there,” Steve says, and Bucky feels a little hurt. “But we’ll make it work, we always do.”

Bucky just nods and Steve tips his head back into the spray, covering Bucky’s eyes with a hand. Once the water has rinsed away the bubbles, he speaks again. “I think we’re done, unless you want to stay in a little longer?” Steve asks.

“Will the hot water ever run out?” Bucky asks, a small smile quirking his lips. It does the intended purpose of setting Steve at ease.

“Probably not,” Steve says. “My first shower here was two hours long and the water stayed hot all the way through.”

“Two hours?!” Bucky asks incredulously. “Jesus, Steve, probably cost Tony a fortune!”

“He can afford it,” Steve replies surely. “It was warm,” Steve says softly. “After…. After what happened… I…”

“Yeah,” Bucky fills in for him. “Bruce is waiting for us.”

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I guess you’re right…”

“Tony is waiting with him,” Bucky says, turning his head to look at Steve. “He can wait a little longer.” He relaxes back into the wall, warmed by the water and relishes the skin to skin proximity with Steve while he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/) too!


	8. Golden Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longest shower scene in history concludes and it takes a whole chapter for clothing to find its way onto Bucky and Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter description is perhaps very misleading. 
> 
> Title from the first Iron Man soundtrack.
> 
> I'd like to thank you all again for your support despite my erratic updating schedule. I ended up without a computer for a week, so no updates could happen. I am back now though and hopefully updates will be steady, if not be a little faster.

It’s been ten minutes and Steve is pretty sure Bucky has fallen asleep. He is loose limbed, leaned back and breathing easy like Steve hasn’t seen him all morning. The site warms him up more than the shower has.

The relative quiet also gives him time to think about Bucky, his behavior and his defensiveness. Obviously Steve has overstepped boundaries by letting his eyes linger where they didn’t belong, but Bucky had been so relaxed and comfortable, Steve had to stare. Perhaps he wanted to save the image, maybe sketch it out later. Bucky inspired Steve to draw like no one could, except for maybe Tony in more recent days.

He brought a hand up and brushed Bucky’s hair out of his face. It was getting long; no one had bothered to give him a trim while he was comatose. Bucky snorted softly at the motion, but didn’t stir otherwise. If it wasn’t for Bruce’s assurance that the drugs in his system were still affecting him, Steve would be worried about Bucky’s new-found ability to fall soundly asleep in less than fifteen minutes.

Steve is drawn out of watching Bucky sleep by a knock on the bathroom door and Tony’s voice. “Hey, Cap! You okay in there?” Steve stands and grabs one of the fluffy towels on the counter, wrapping it around his waist for modesty, even as he drips water all along the floor. He makes his way to the door and eases it open, peaking through the crack and a cloud of escaping steam to see Tony standing there.

“What is it?” Steve asks, keeping his voice soft for Bucky’s sake.

Tony waves a hand in front of his face as more steam ekes out of the crack in the door. “Wow, you guys trying to cook yourselves in there?”

“I like it warm,” Steve says, though it comes out as apologetic. “Bucky… uh… he fell asleep, in the shower,” he explains sheepishly.

“You want Bruce to come to you?” Tony asks, attempting to peer over Steve’s shoulder. Steve moves into the way, protecting Bucky’s modesty and giving Tony a firm look.

“No, he probably wouldn’t appreciate that,” Steve says to both Tony’s offer and his seemingly questing eyes. Tony leans back on his heels, crossing his arms. “Got really defensive about _me_ seeing him naked, don’t know what he’d do if…” Steve trails off as Bruce approaches.

“It’s fine, Steve. Let us know when he wakes up,” Bruce says. He smiles at Steve kindly, and walks away.

“Alright, well…” Steve tries to wait for Tony to move back before closing the door, but the genius doesn't move and he ends up just awkwardly shutting it in his face.

He makes his way back to Bucky just in time for his friend to make a humorous snorting noise and shoot up coughing. It seems he managed to lean into the spray during Steve’s absence and inhale some of the water. He looks up to Steve blearily and sniffles as the blonde laughs.

“Don’ laugh at me,” he says, voice slightly nasally. “Coulda’ died.”

“Like a turkey in the rain,” Steve teases, still smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Why’d you let me sleep in the shower?” Bucky asks muzzily. “You were supposed to keep an eye on me, I thought.” He wipes at his nose and glares at Steve.

“I was keeping an eye on you while you slept in the shower,” Steve says matter-of-factly. “Since you’re awake now, how about we get dressed and go see Bruce?” he suggests, already unfolding Bucky’s towel. Bucky nods and the water shuts off as Steve comes over. He wraps the towel around Bucky’s shoulders, who allows it, surprisingly. “You hurting?” Steve asks in concern, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Just… drowsy,” he says as Steve towels his hair, leaving it a tangled and unruly mess.

“You need a haircut,” Steve comments.

“You need to stop babying me,” Bucky complains, and he snatches the towel from his head. He does a good job of drying himself the rest of the way off and the lets Steve help him stand and wrap the towel around his waist.

“Fine, fine,” Steve says, making light of how the comment made him feel. “I just… Bucky.” When Bucky looks up at him, Steve licks his lips and continues. “I… When I woke up, they told me you wouldn’t,” he admits. “They said you wouldn’t ever open your eyes, that I…” he pauses, looking away and tightening his grip around his friend. “That you were catatonic.” He helps Bucky to sit on the counter, and Steve digs around for a comb. “I guess I just have to… prove to myself… that you’re awake.”

Bucky looks at him thoughtfully as Steve gently combs his hair back. He parts it on the side he know Bucky prefers and then combs the damp strands, so that they mimic his usual style, just a tad longer. “Okay… but… tone it down a little, please,” Bucky says after a few moments. He never could refuse Steve anything. “I don’t like feeling… helpless, any more than you did” he continues. He places a hand over his stump self-conciously.

“You’re not, Bucky,” Steve assures, holding Bucky’s gaze. “You’re doing so well.” Steve resists the urge to run his fingers through the more stubborn strands of Bucky's hair, now curling around his ears.

“Considering the odds you were given, I’d think so,” Bucky says, a small smirk twisting his lips. Steve smiles in return and helps him down from the bathroom counter. The moment is broken, however, when Steve fumbles and Bucky winces as one foot hits the ground harder than expected.

“Sorry!” Steve says quickly, steadying Bucky as he falters.

“I was the stupid schmuck who ran through glass,” Bucky says humorlessly. “Not your fault.” Steve still feels guilty at the strain in Bucky’s voice.

“Let’s get you to Banner, and get you more pain meds,” Steve suggests, helping Bucky to limp out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. To Bucky’s uncharacteristic and intense dismay, Tony and Bruce are already waiting for them and Bucky pauses despite the towel covering his modesty.

“Thought we were gonna get dressed first,” Bucky says quietly. Steve looks down, shamefaced.

“I… the clothes are out here,” Steve says in response. “It’ll be easier to take care of everything before you get dressed, Bucky, they’ll leave for that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bucky Bear,” Tony chimes in, looking up from his tablet. “We’re all friends here! Nothing we haven’t seen before either.” Even as he says this, though, Steve catches his blatant leer. It cannot possibly be genuine, but it does nothing to help Bucky's self-consciousness and Steve frowns in open disapproval.

Bucky sighs, but allows Steve to help him over to the couch. Bruce already has everything set out on the coffee table and he works quickly, doing his best to make friendly conversation. Between looking incredibly tired and incredibly embarrassed, Bucky doesn’t seem to have much attention for it.

“How has the pain medication been working?” Bruce asks instead, giving Bucky a strange look. “Not counting earlier, of course.”

“Fine,” Bucky answers shortly. He eyes several of the auto-injectors Bruce has on hand.

“Okay… you just seem to be… in pain, more than you should,” Bruce says perceptively. “You know… if it isn’t working, it’s okay. Pain meds don’t work well on Steve, either.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he listens to the proceedings. Was Bruce insinuating what he thought he was?

“I’m not Steve,” Bucky replies stubbornly, tensing up in the shoulders.

“No, but you certainly have some of the same talents,” Tony says, not looking up from his tablet. “Killer aim, though it’s with something you’re actually supposed to shoot." At this he gives Steve an amused look. "Went up against the Tesseract and lived … slept for seventy years in ice…” he trails off, setting the tablet down on the coffee table to look Bucky in the eye. "A lot of the same talents."

“Steve was part of project rebirth, I wasn’t,” Bucky replies, quiet and firm. “What are you getting at, Stark? You trying to make some kind of point or are you just blowing steam?” There is a dangerous air to Bucky’s tone and Steve feels like he needs to step in.

He is about to, straightening his spine, but leaning forward, intimidating despite being dressed in only a towel, but Bruce speaks up.

“He has a point, Bucky,” Bruce says. He has Bucky’s feet set in his lap, but he still manages to look serious. “While you were… sleeping… they took some blood samples. I’ve been running some comparisons with Steve’s blood and it… it matches up. Not exactly, but close. It’s probably why you… you slept… instead of freezing to death and why Shield was hesitant to let you go.”

Bucky sits stock still, staring at Bruce, mouth thinned and eyes wide. “I was never a part of Project Rebirth,” he repeats, though his voice has taken on a desperate quality to it, pleading. Steve places a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“But you were… captured… by Hydra,” Steve says quietly. “I think… we think… that might be what happened.”

Bucky snaps to look at him. “' _We_ think?!'” he quotes, eyes flashing with both anger and betrayal. "All three of you? When were you planning on telling me you were looking at my blood, huh?" He glares at Bruce, who shrinks back from him slightly. Bucky then turns to Steve. “Why didn’t _you_ tell me? Why’d you just let me think that I…” He stops when his voice starts to crack.

“Bucky, no!” Steve says quickly. “I didn’t know for sure until just now!” He gives Bruce a look and the  doctor has the decency to look abashed. “I… I had some suspicions, but that’s all they were.” He settles back into the seat, encouraging Bucky to follow suit. “You didn’t exactly make it easy either, Bucky. Have the pain meds even worked at all? How hungry have you been since you woke up?”

Bucky deflates almost immediately, looking away from Steve. “I just didn’t think anything was wrong,” he says softly.

“Which was why you were so open and honest about it?” Tony asks, incredulous.

“Like he needs to be hearing that from yo—“ Steve starts to say, but Bucky cuts him off.

“I didn’t want anything to be wrong,” Bucky corrects himself. He has his eyes trained diligently on his lap. “Schmidt had the serum too, didn’t he? Look what happened to him. And I didn’t exactly grow like Steve did… just got better at killing people, and cigarettes and booze stopped working.” He looks over at Steve. “You think I’m going to tell you about that? After what we saw that shit could do to people? Everyone else in that lab didn’t come back out alive, or at least it didn’t look like it. Who knows what Zola did to them. I just figured I was lucky and if I didn’t mess with it… maybe it would…”

“Go away?” Tony asks, cocking his head.

“I don’t know… wear off… maybe,” Bucky says quietly. “It was stupid, alright? I got that.”

“You were scared,” Bruce says. He sets Bucky’s newly bandaged feet gently on the floor in favor of scooting closer to him. “The serum makes monsters.” Steve can see Bruce’s own pain and fear bleed through his expression. If anyone knows the painful repercussions of an experiment gone wrong, it’s Bruce. “But you’re not one. I’ve done some analyses of Zola’s version of the serum and it’s not far off from Erskine’s in this case,” he explains calmly. “From what I can see, it’s… latent. It affects your metabolism and gives you slightly accelerated healing, but it shouldn’t affect your actual strength. Not until it’s active.”

“How does that happen?” Bucky’s shoulders have relaxed, and he is breathing steadier.

“For Steve, they accelerated the process with vitarays,” Bruce says. “But you can get the same results by just exercising… a diet high in protein helps too. It has the same effect. It boosts the serum, which in turn, boosts you.”

“So you’re telling me Steve could have just exercised and ate right and he’d have gained a foot and a half plus a hundred pounds?” Bucky asks, disbelieving.

“Yes. The serum still would have made drastic changes, just at a slower rate,” Bruce says with confidence.

“Why’d my aim improve, then?” Bucky asks. Bruce's brow furrows as he searches for an answer.

“Fear?” Tony cuts in. At Steve’s offended look, he continues, hands raised in placation. “Was never much good at agility until I was facing a crazy Russian on a racetrack without my suit,” he explains. “Fear’s a hell of a good motivator.”

Steve breathes a sigh of relief at Tony’s answer, surprisingly inoffensive. It also reminded him that he still didn’t know everything about Tony Stark just yet. Bucky is giving both of them a strange look.

“I’ll show you the suit later, Bucky,” Tony says, as if reading his mind. “Once your feet heal.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Bucky replies almost immediately. “Things seem really… different, now.”

“Yeah, they are,” Steve says gently. “Once you can walk, I’ll take you on a tour of New York, show you everything that’s changed.” The room lapses into silence.

Bucky breaks the silence first, after staring at his hand for a few moments. “So… I’ve got the serum. Too bad I can’t use it,” he says, smiling wryly.

“You still could,” Steve insists, leaning forward to replace Bruce, who has backed off slightly.

“What good would it do?” Bucky asks, sounding painfully reasonable. “Only got one arm.”

“Doesn’t change anything, Buck,” Steve says. It didn’t, or at least it wouldn’t with Steve. Still, Bucky snorts at him.

“Can’t shoot anymore,” Bucky says, looking away from him. “Not much good on a battlefield anymore.”

“You don’t have to be on a battlefield, Bucky. The war’s over,” Steve says. He wishes Tony and Bruce were not in the room. Their presence seems voyeuristic, witnessing the suffering of someone they don’t even know.

Bucky sighs, watching Banner pack away his supplies. Steve spares a glance at Tony to see him working intensively on his tablet again. He is torn away when Bucky looks up again. “Guess you’re right,” he says. His smile has a little more of a genuine look to it. “Didn’t want to go to war in the first place, to be honest with you. Just… just wish I coulda’ gone home… No offense, Stark.”

“None taken,” Tony says, not looking up from the tablet. He looks engrossed in his work.

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve says, repeating what he had said earlier. “You’re not alone, Bucky.”

Bucky nods. “Any… any chance I could get dressed?” he asks after a few moments, laughing lightly.

Steve couldn’t help, but grin, pleased with Bucky’s brightened mood. Even if it was somewhat sudden. “Of course!” he says. He stands, but pauses, looking over to Tony and Bruce. “Mind leaving so we could do that?”

Bruce snaps the clips on his first aid kit shut and nods, standing. However, Tony stays sat on the couch. Steve clears hi throat. Tony looks up then, frowning. “What? Like I said, it’s not like it’s anything we haven’t seen before.”

“Ain’t never seen one like mine, Stark,” Bucky says, grinning wolfishly.

“That so? Maybe I should stay? Take notes… make some sketches…” This earns Tony a couch cushion to the head.

“Get out, Tony,” Steve says, having used the cushion he was sitting on to throw at the genius.

“Gross. This is wet, you’re making my couch soggy,” Tony says, even as he stands, tucking the starktab under his arm. He turns to Bucky as he follows Bruce out. “I wasn’t joking about the sketches!” he calls, grinning.

“Only guy who’s ever done it justice is Steve!” Bucky calls back. Steve can feel his ears grow hot as Tony’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. The door shuts before Steve can clarify what Bucky means.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Steve accuses. He can feel the blush move from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes. “He’s going to get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea about what?” Bucky asks. Steve can’t tell if he is truly being innocent or not. “He knows you’re an artist, right? It’s not like you could afford a model. My family jewels were the only ones available… well, mine or yours.”

“Why are you suddenly okay with this…?” Steve asks suspiciously, even as he turns a whole new shade of red. “You weren’t earlier. You were pretty secretive about your… jewels.” He is both trying to turn the talk away from Bucky’s genitals and also bring up the fact he has never been particularly modest until now.

“Not… not worried about that,” Bucky says, mood immediately dropping as grimaces and looks away.

“Your… arm?” Steve asks, eyes wandering to the stump. Bucky tries to turn it away from him.

“Don’t act stupid, Steve,” Bucky says. “It ain’t exactly pretty.”

“Bucky, Tony and Bruce don’t care. I don’t care,” Steve insists. “It’s… nothing to be ashamed of.”

Bucky huffs. “Sure it’s not,” he says. “I’ve caught you staring, you know?”

The blush that Steve had managed to tamp down on comes back full force. “I… uh… Bucky, that’s not…”

“Don’t lie to me, Steve,” Bucky snaps. “I lost an arm, not an eye, and you’re not exactly subtle.”

“Oh God, Bucky! That’s not… that isn’t…” He takes a deep breath as Bucky watches him flounder with a bland look. “I haven’t been staring at your arm,” he says, calm as he can manage. He isn’t sure how effective it is though, because his ears are still hot. “I really haven’t… I don’t think it’s… ugly… or… or anything, Bucky. It’s just you. It’s how you are now. I’m okay with that.”

“Makes one of us,” Bucky snorts, flopping back onto the couch.

“It doesn’t have to be okay with you,” Steve starts, getting into Bucky’s face and trying to meet his eyes. They remain stubbornly locked on a point just over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky’s mouth a grim line. “But you have to understand it doesn’t change anything. I… I still see you as Bucky. Nothing less. You understand me?”

“Sure, Steve,” Bucky says, but he still won’t meet Steve’s eyes and he doesn’t sound sure. He stops Steve from saying anything further, however,  with a firm hug, his arm wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him close. “I appreciate it,” he says into Steve’s ear.

This close, skin to skin, Steve can feel Bucky’s heartbeat against his chest and his breath ghosting against his ear. It’s warm and comforting, but also compromising in more ways than one. Bucky is warm and clean smelling, slightly damp with a hint of antiseptic mixed along with his natural smell.

“Well good,” Steve says, bringing his arms up to hug Bucky back. It pulls their chests closer together and his breath catches. “I-I  think we’ve had enough naked heart to hearts for one day.” He reluctantly removes himself from Bucky’s space and makes a quick dash for their clothes. “Is this Tony’s…?” he ponders allowed when he pulls apart the pile of clothes for Bucky.

“Better not be underwear. Internet says he’s a playboy, don’t want to catch anything,” Bucky calls. Steve stifles a chuckle.

“No it’s just a shirt.” He throws the faded band tee to Bucky, who catches it. “Remember what Bruce said about the internet, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says, wrestling himself into the shirt.

Steve unfolds the sweats and balks. “Bucky… there isn’t… actually any underwear in here,” he says hesitantly.

Bucky chuckles, holding his hand out for the sweats. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone commando.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, are you looking for an unnecessarily dark Winter Soldier playlist? [I've got you covered](http://8tracks.com/kasisnotofimport/your-only-hope-is-evil)


	9. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky learns what happened in New York, Bruce makes a decision, and there's some bonding between the genius and the sergeant, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am failing at being timely with these :P
> 
> Chapter title is from the Avengers: Age of Ultron soundtrack and actually matches the chapter... what. how.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support, I'm glad you're all enjoying the story as much as I enjoy writing it. (And somehow amazingly putting up with my 4 am typos.)
> 
> This chapter's kinda slow, but there's some flirting, so hopefully you like it!

Steve has to leave after getting dressed, along with Tony, Bruce and the rest of Steve’s new motley crew. They leave Bucky alone, now with the knowledge he has the serum, hooked up to stronger painkillers. They actually work and he wishes they didn’t.

Bucky is trying not to take offense to the amount of time Steve is leaving him alone. However Steve continues to spew pretty words about needing to know Bucky’s alive, how much he needs to be with Bucky to assure himself, and then leaves him alone without an arm and feet he’s not allowed to walk on. Underneath all the anger though, he knows he is just sad and bitter. He isn’t much help to Steve anymore, so why should Steve stay with him.

His hand clinches in the blankets pulled up to his waste, wrinkling them. The little robot thing that Tony left with him rolls up and beeps, as if sensing his duress. He looks to it. The thing is not little, it’s a little shorter than he is, with a crane-like arm that it uses to peer at him and also grab things. Its name is Dummy, or at least that’s what Tony calls it. The name doesn’t fit; it’s probably one of the smartest machines Bucky has ever seen. Tony says its purpose is to get him anything he wants or needs, but Bucky just leaves it near the bed and talks at it, and Jarvis, while he researches more things, or watches movies when that gets too depressing.

Surprisingly, Jarvis is one of the most comforting presences he has encountered so far. He may have disturbed Bucky at first, but after a few hours exposed to the perceptive AI as his only company, he becomes a friend. The AI is polite, efficient and unconcerned with Bucky’s disability. When Barnes starts hurting, his voice is calm, not pitying as he walks Bucky through delivering an extra dose of painkillers to himself.

Steve eventually returns, obviously stressed and tired, but no worse for wear, a pinched expression to his face. He knocks on the door before he enters, waiting for Bucky to give him permission to come in.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve greets, once he is fully in the room, door shut behind him. “How are you feeling?” His eyes land on Dummy as the robot rolls over to him, critically assessing the Captain while making a series of inquisitive beeps.

“Fine,” Bucky says, despite feeling the opposite of fine. He cannot keep the tiredness out of his voice, however. “Had Dummy here to keep me company,” he continues, motioning towards the robot. At the mention of its name, it rolls over to him at a break-neck speed, bumping into the side of the bed. Steve’s expression relaxes a little and he laughs.

“He seems to like you,” Steve says. He comes over and stands near the bed, clearly unsure of what to do with the machine. Bucky had felt the same way earlier. He honestly felt like he needed to pet it whenever it did something for him. Jarvis had said it couldn’t feel it, but that ‘thank-you’s’ were more than enough reward.

“He is fond of individuals that do not run the risk of spontaneously catching flame,” Jarvis says. Steve’s eyebrows furrow, and Bucky snorts. As if sensing Steve’s confusion, the AI continues. “Sir does not always follow safety regulations in the use of his equipment. In these cases, Dummy is equipped with a fire extinguisher.”

Steve looks concerned about this, but doesn’t comment, instead opting to look Bucky over critically. “Are you still hurting?” he asks. “Has the pain medication started working yet?”

“It works fine,” Bucky says, waving him off. “Makes me sleepy and doesn’t last that long, but it works.”

Steve makes a relieved noise, sinking onto the side of the bed. Bucky can understand his relief. Apparently the painkiller was something Shield was working on in case Steve got injured, since the regular stuff wouldn’t work on him. It doubled as a type of sedative, according to Banner, but it didn’t match the makeup of what they were drugging him with before.

Bucky had tried to research Shield after Steve and his group had gone, but turned up nothing, but vague conspiracy theories. According to Jarvis, there was more information on Tony’s personal servers, but he needed permission to access it. He figured he would just ask Tony about it later.

“What’d you go do?” Bucky asks after a few minutes. Dummy has once again settled at his side like a contented dog and Steve is staring at the far wall distantly.

At his question, Steve grimaces, moving to his spot beside Bucky on the bed. “Finishing the battle, I guess.” He kicks his shoes off before folding his hands on his stomach and crossing his legs. “You been told about the Battle of New York, yet?”

“Aliens,” Bucky says vaguely. “That’s all I really know.” He tries not to sound bitter about it.

“Yeah. Okay. We’ll start with that. I’m… I’m going to warn you though, it gets… strange, stranger than Hydra, even.” He turns to look at Bucky and the Sergeant takes the opportunity to lift an eyebrow at him, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I guess… While we were away, Shield found the Tesseract and instead of locking the damn thing away, they experimented on it. They… opened a door with it, to another part of space. And something got through…”

 

“So we’ve agreed that we aren’t going to tell Shield about Bucky,” Tony says. He, Bruce, Clint and Natasha are sat down in one of his conference rooms. Thor left with Loki and the Tesseract and Steve is openly adamant about their secrecy, so they were excused from this particular meeting. Jarvis said Bucky was in need of some company anyway.

They have all gone over this before, but Tony wants to make it official. Not to mention he may want one last meeting with them as a team.

“Got my word,” Clint says amicably. “Didn’t even know you had him – above my level – can’t lie about what I’m not supposed to know in the first place.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “I’m on the same level as Clint. I’ll keep quiet.”

Tony eyes her for a few moments. Her performance in the battle has helped restore some of the trust he had in her, but he still can’t quite get over the fact that she effectively lied to him and then tattled on him to Fury. Tony doesn’t trust easy, and especially not after an initial betrayal, he is smarter than that.

“Not sure if I trust you, Romanoff,” he says honestly. “How do I know you aren’t going to go cry to Fury again?”

“You don’t. And you have no way of insuring I don’t,” she says bluntly, crossing her arms. “But I don’t have a reason to report on Barnes. He isn’t my prerogative, or my concern. You were,” she says easily. She keeps her eyes trained on Tony’s, defiant and unrepentant. “Besides…” Her lips form a small smile. “I like Steve. I’ll think of it as a favor to him.”

“What? You don’t like me?” Tony asks sarcastically. She doesn’t answer, but her smile doesn’t leave. Tony isn’t sure what to make of that. “Well… fine. Not like Shield could get in even if they did find out,” he says, more to himself, than anyone else. “If that’s all, you’re free to go, I guess.” The situation has dissolved into less of a debrief and more of an awkward gathering of very different individuals. “I hope you won’t take it badly when I say I hope to never be working with you again.”

Clint snorts at him and Bruce looks down with a smile on his face. Natasha just cocks her head to the side. “Will Rogers be staying with you?” she asks. “Fury has a proposition for him.”

“Yeah, just tell him to ask for Rogers when he calls. Steve can decide if he wants to answer,” Tony replies flippantly.

Clint straightens from his reclined position, sighing. “Welp, Stark, it’s been a wild ride. Catch you later, maybe?” he asks, even as he starts out the door.

“Sure, we can get drinks,” Tony says.

“Only if you’re buying,” Clint laughs. Natasha makes her way out behind Clint.

Tony eyes Natasha as she leaves. He knows Clint won’t say anything. Even if he did, it’s not like anyone would believe a former victim of Loki’s mind control. But Natasha… Natasha, he isn’t so sure about. Bruce watches them go as well, tense.

As soon as the door shuts and seals, Bruce speaks. “I want you to buy tickets for the first two planes out. Two, one in my name and one not, to two different underdeveloped countries. It’s what they’ll be expecting.”

“Consider it done, Doctor Banner,” Jarvis answers.

Tony shoots the Doctor a smile. “Staying after all, huh?” he teases.

“Only until Barnes is stable,” Bruce says, repeating what he had said earlier. “He’s… worrying me. I may be staying longer than I thought. Does Steve know that I’m staying?”

“Nope!” Tony says. “He probably thinks I’m leaving Bucky up the creek without a doctor. Let’s go surprise him, shall we?” He holds out his arm for Bruce to take, like he is a date at a premier. It gets a chuckle out of the scientist, so Tony counts it as a win.

The ride up to Steve’s floor is relatively quiet, but peacefully so. Bruce is comfortable, relaxed enough that the lines in his face seem to have softened. Tony, conversely, is wired. He just got rid of Big Brother and Big Sister, and he is anxious to get working on his new projects. New Tower Security, plants to rebuild the party deck, renovating Steve’s floor for two, and some dabbling in biomechanics. He has quite a schedule lined up.

They can hear talking as they approach the door, Steve’s voice, interspersed with Bucky’s every so often. Bruce knocks and it goes silent for a few seconds and then Bucky says they can come in.

The two of them are lying in bed together. Steve is on his side, turned towards Bucky and Bucky is rolled towards him as far as the IV tubing will let him. Bucky turns to regard them both, luckily it looks like neither of them has been crying, but Bucky looks a whole new level of pissed.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Tony asks the two, Bucky is still frowning. “What’s got your underwear in a bunch, Bucky Bear?”

“Can’t believe Shield messed with the Tesseract, even after what it did during the war,” Bucky replies.

“I can,” Tony says, making his way farther into the room. He comes to stop at the bedside table, leaning his hip against it. “They want power, power to protect, sure, but also to control and who knows what else,” he continues.

“They nearly killed everyone,” Bucky says. “They… they were drugging me. Why?”

“We have already established that you have a version of the serum, like Steve. Shield has been trying to replicate it for decades, even before you both went under the ice,” Bruce cuts in. “With you… comatose… they had a willing subject… or at least someone who couldn’t fight back.”

Bucky shivers, hand gripping the bedspread. Bruce echoes it. “That’s fucked… wrong,” he says quietly. “Why didn’t they try to keep Steve under too?”

“Would have been weird,” Tony answers this time. “I was… the one who thawed you out. You had a head wound, Steve wasn’t really any worse for wear. They might have… also been trying to use you as leverage.”

Steve looks grim this time. “For the Avengers, probably… They also want me on a special ops team.”

“About that, Fury is probably going to call you later with a proposition. I was thinking… maybe you accept it, but be our eyes on the inside,” Tony says, thoughtfully tapping his chin.

“That’s going to leave Bucky here by himse—“

Bucky cuts Steve off with a huff. “I’m a big boy, Steve, I can handle staying home alone,” he says, even though his face clearly says differently. “I want to know what Shield’s planning. It’s fishy, and I know you’re not going to let that pass.”

“Wait… wait,” Steve entreats. “We don’t even know if Fury is calling me for that reason,” he says. “Besides, I’m not good at… recon. And couldn’t Tony… I don’t know… hack them and get information.

“No one says hack anymore,” Tony blurts, but reneges at the flat look from every occupant. “Anyway, that’s what I’m doing, but there’s stuff they don’t keep on the server, and other things are heavily encrypted,” Tony explains. He flops down on the bed next to Bucky’s feet. “I crack one level, turns out there’s ten more and the higher up you get, the more difficult and time consuming it gets. Not that I don’t like a challenge, because I do, but the more I mess around in their system, the more likely it is that they’re going to find out. And once they do, they’ll close themselves off, and then we definitely don’t have a chance.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that Steve’s a shitty liar,” Bucky cuts in.

“I’m not a bad liar,” Steve huffs, but with a pointed look from Bucky, promptly shuts up.

“Like I said, Steve’s a shitty liar. He doesn’t have a poker face,” Bucky continues. “He can’t spy.”

“Doesn’t have to. Just do what you’re doing and come to me with the dirty details,” Tony says, shrugging. “I’d go in myself, but Fury doesn’t trust me. I almost didn’t make it on the Avengers.”

Bucky looks to Bruce at that point. “Why can’t the Doc go? He’s a regular Stonewall,” he comments. Tony snorts and Bruce colors slightly.

“Did Steve explain… my… problem to you?” Bruce asks, somewhat bashful. Bucky shakes his head.

“I didn’t know if it was too personal,” Steve explains sheepishly.

“I turn into a big green monster when I get mad,” Bruce says morosely.

“You are shitting me,” Bucky declares immediately. “What?”

“It’s… how I know so much about the serum. I was trying to replicate I and had an… accident,” Bruce says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Made me stronger… just not the way my employers intended.”

“That’s what you meant by ‘the serum makes monsters,’” Bucky comments thoughtfully.

“Well… I meant Schmidt too,” Bruce says with a wry smile.

“Hulk’s not a monster though, don’t lump him in with Schmidt. He’s a hero. Saved me from going splat on the pavement,” Tony says. “He’s just an… angry… hero.” He grins at Bruce who ducks his head.

“Anyway… that’s why they don’t trust me anymore than Tony. The only thing they want me for is a test subject,” he explains, recovering his air of seriousness.

“Like me,” Bucky says quietly. Bruce nods solemnly.

“I… I’ll try to do this,” Steve says, moving a hand up to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder. “If only to… figure out what they wanted with Bucky and what their plans are…”

“Alright! Bucky gets to stay here and learn about the wonders of the future with me!” Tony declares, clapping his hands and grinning entirely too brightly at Bucky. “Oh, and Bruce’ll be here too!”

Steve looks to Bruce with some mixture of shock and thankfulness. “You will?” he asks.

“At least until Bucky’s arm heals. Shield thinks I’m leaving, so… don’t mention me,” Bruce replies with a quiet smile.

“Thank you, Bruce. I don’t think you know how much this helps,” Steve almost gushes. “I… I would prefer you take care of Bucky… out of everyone.”

Bruce’s eyes widen and he looks away. “Well I… can’t exactly tell anyone about Bucky being awake when I’m not even supposed to be here, so… I’m probably the best person for the job,” he says, looking back to Steve.

“It’s got nothing to do with you being the most qualified,” Tony mutters, though he is smiling too. “Both you and Bucky are on house arrest for now, so it works out.” Everyone suddenly becomes a tad darker and Tony flounders for a few seconds, confused. “I didn’t mean it like that! You can leave if you want…”

“We know what you meant, Tony, just… you put this all into perspective,” Steve says, reaching out to rest a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony looks up to him and he has a soft expression. Well, at least he hadn’t fucked up.

“Worst places to be under house arrest,” Bucky comments. “Not like I could go anywhere anyway.”

“Not like I’d want to go anywhere,” Bruce agrees.

Bucky’s statement is worrying to Tony, but Bruce’s drowns it out slightly, pleased that Bruce wants to be in his home. “Damn straight,” Tony states. They lapse into a silence that Tony wastes no time breaking. “So… We need dinner. You like Chinese, Barnes?” he asks.

“I don’t know…?” Bucky replies, more of a question than a statement.

“It’s good, you’ll like it,” Tony assures before instructing Jarvis to order two of everything off his favorite restaurant's delivery menu.

After a large dinner, another round of tense and awkward bandage changing, and watching Steve try to sneak his six foot two, two hundred forty pound frame into Bucky’s room, Tony is settling down to bed too. Obviously Bucky hadn’t mentioned Tony’s breakfast delivery or Steve wouldn’t be being so secretive. At least Tony hopes he wouldn’t. That would be ridiculous.

He fiddles with his tablet, texts Pepper for a few minutes before he turns everything off  for the first time since the battle and drops off to sleep.

Around two hours later, he is jerking awake to Jarvis’s smooth voice. He is soaked in sweat, breath coming in harsh pants and he immediately brings his hands up to clutch at the reactor with a breathless cry.

“The time is three thirty A.M. May 12, 2012. The weather is predicted to be sunny with a high of eighty degrees. There is a five percent chance of precipitation,” Jarvis recites faithfully. “Are you alright, sir? You appear to have been having a nightmare.”

“Fine,” Tony chokes out. “Gonna… gotta get a drink,” he says, stumbling out of bed. Because of his promise not to drink so much to Pepper after the whole mess with Vanko, all of his liquor is located on the common floors. He weaves his way to elevator, mopping his face with the corner of his shirt and smoothing back his bed-head. “God, what the hell?” he asks himself, leaning against the elevator wall. He can’t remember his dream very well, just that it was all black abysses and glowing blue lights, foreign, not like his arc reactor.

The elevator opens a few minutes later, and he makes his way through the relatively undamaged part of the common floor to the bar. There is still a Loki shaped hole in the floor, and his window is smashed through, allowing a draft in the room. It’s a warm night, though, so Tony doesn’t care.

He does care, however, when he hears noises coming from the direction of the bar, quiet mumbling and Dummy’s beeping. He wanders farther in, finding a shaky looking Bucky leaning heavily on Dummy as they navigate the small space together.

“Where are the glasses?” Bucky mutters, pulling open another cabinet. Dummy makes a few toned beeps at him and peers with his lens at the shelves. “Don’t tell me you don’t know where they are,” Bucky scolds. “You gotta be more than a glorified crutch.” Tony jumps as there is a shattering of glass. “Oh fuck, there they are.”

Tony decides to make himself known then, not wanting Bucky to hurt himself by stepping onto shattered glass again. “Can’t sleep?” he asks casually, making his way into the bar area. Bucky jumps about an inch off the floor, almost falling off Dummy in the process.

“Holy shit, Stark. Scared me,” Bucky says, leaning a little more fully against Dummy.

“Only ‘cause you’re up here vandalizing my property,” Tony says with a quirked eyebrow. He comes over and replaces Dummy at Bucky’s side. “Here, lean on me. Dummy, go get a dust pan and broom, clean this up.” Dummy makes an affirmative beep and zooms off, leaving Bucky and Tony to navigate through the mess on the floor. Luckily it was one of Tony’s thicker glasses that shattered, so the pieces of glass are large and easy to avoid.

“Sorry about breaking you glass,” Bucky says close to Tony’s ear. Bucky is warm and solid against his back and Tony tries not to let that get to him. He tries not to enjoy it so much, especially in the wake of his nightmare.

“Don’t worry about it. I have more,” Tony shrugs, leading Bucky out of the bar area and to one of the couches.

“Coulda' fooled me,” Bucky mutters. “If you got so many, why you gotta hide them like they’re gold?”

“Some of them are,” Tony teases. “So… what are you doing up? Can’t sleep?” he repeats.

“Been sleeping for seventy years,” Bucky says. “Yeah, can’t sleep.”

“What are you doing up here?” Tony asks. He is pretty sure why, this is one of the only places in the Tower that stocks booze. Though he thought alcohol wouldn’t work on Bucky.

“Wanted water,” Bucky says quietly. “I wasn’t stealing you liquor,” he adds, side-eyeing Tony.

“Wouldn’t mind if you had been,” Tony says, helping Bucky to sit on the couch. “There’s water in your room, you know? And less hidden and breakable glasses.”

Bucky goes quiet, looking away to the Tony shaped hole in the window. “Been in that room all damn day,” he says finally. “Not that I don’t appreciate your interior decorating, but I… needed to get out.”

“So you’d rather come up here amongst the battle wreckage?” Tony asks. He abandons his quest for liquor and sits on the couch next to Bucky.

“This is the common room, ain’t it?” Not my fault you can’t keep it clean,” Bucky shoots back. Dummy chooses this moment to return, rolling past quickly with a broom and dustpan clutched in his claw. “You built that,” Bucky says, though it comes out of a question.

“Yup, I built him,” Tony says, watching Dummy struggle with the dustpan and broom, spreading glass more thoroughly around the bar. “Not the most advanced bot I’ve built, but…” he trails off as Dummy manages to knock another glass out of the cabinet with the butt of the broom. “I told you to clean up the mess, not make it worse!” he yells. The bot makes an apologetic whining whistle and gets back to work.

“It… He’s amazing,” Bucky says, watching the bot work with wide eyes. “Never seen anything like him. I… I would’ve never thought I would have lived to see something like him.”

“If you think he’s cool, you should see the stuff that actually works,” Tony says, grinning. “His brother works a little better, more advanced AI and all that… not as fun though,” he comments, glancing at Bucky.

“You have… more bots?” Bucky asks. He leans up, inching closer to tony with enthusiasm, making their knees bump together. “Can I see them sometime?”

“You can see them now,” Tony offers, smiling at Bucky’s excitement. He isn’t going to call the man cute, but if he did, he wouldn’t be wrong. “Come on, I’ll be your glorified crutch for a while. Probably the most handsome crutch you have ever used.” He waggles his eyebrows at Barnes as he helps the man stand again.

“And the softest,” Barnes comments as he stands slowly. “What about you getting your drink? That’s what you were here for… right?” He eyes the ceiling, like he thinks Jarvis might have tattled on him.

“Wouldn’t want to get in Dummy’s way,” Tony waves him off. “And are you calling me fat, Barnes?” he accuses.

Bucky snorts. “You caught that, did you?”

“You are! You’re calling me fat! I’ll have you know I have a set of washboard abs under this shirt!” Tony defends, motioning to himself. They begin walking back to the elevator as Bucky laughs.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says, practically leering at Tony. Tony resolutely does not blush. “Who you trying to impress?”

“I’m a superhero!” Tony announces, though it comes out more sarcastic than he intended. “It’s part of the package. And excuse you, Bucky Barnes, I have plenty of people to impress. They aren’t usually taken by just my abs, though.” They enter the elevator and Tony thinks, belatedly, that this may not have been the best subject to stray to in a confined space.

“That so?” Bucky comments. His blue eyes dip to Tony’s feet and then make their way back up to his eyes with theatrical scrutiny.

“Very much so. I have a lot of money. Usually gets people’s pants off pretty fast,” Tony continues.

Bucky chuckles. “Pretty sure it’s more than just your money, Stark,” he says softly. And maybe that gets Tony’s ears to pink.

He takes a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been missing when the elevator doors open, revealing his private workshop. He helps Bucky limp his way to a stool and settles him on it. By the time he fully faces Bucky, Tony has his own face under control. “I’ll grab you some water and wake up U.”

Bucky nods absently, eyes flicking around the lab’s contents, wide with wonder. Tony leaves him, chuckling to himself. On his way over to the mini fridge, he pats U, who makes a quiet chirp as he comes online. “We have a guest,” Tony says, pointing to Bucky, now looking at them. “Go say hi, why don’t you?” U practically shoots off to see Bucky and the man’s eyes widen dramatically as the robot approaches him. Tony turns, continuing on his way to the fridge.

“Jarvis, start some coffee,” Tony calls, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. He makes his way back to see Bucky laughing as U hovers excitedly near him.

“These are some impressive pieces of work, Stark!” Bucky compliments, still laughing. Tony cracks the seal on the cap before he strides over and hands him the bottle, returning the man’s smile.

“Thanks. But these are child’s play compared to what I do now,” Tony brags shamelessly, leaning his butt against U’s body. “Don’t make many AIs anymore, but I still work with robotics.”

“Steve… Steve told me about that. You make… he called it armor?” Bucky asks. He is practically leaning on U now too, fist under his chin and the water bottle between his legs.

Tony grins. “Yup!” The coffee maker beeps and he strolls over to it, pouring himself a cup while he speaks. “He told you what the armor does?” he asks.

“He said you could fly,” Bucky says. “Don’t know how much he was embellishing though. All of it seemed pretty unbelievable,” he continues. He takes a sip from the bottle, watching Tony closely. “Experienced a… uh… chi-chitauri… first hand, still don’t think it’s real.”

Tony tries not to visibly flinch at the name. “Don’t I know it?” he asks, downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp. He sets the cup down and walks to one of the workbenches, it has a gauntlet from his newest suit set up for diagnostics and Tony grabs it. Pulling the still exposed wiring from where it’s plugged into a device on the table, he snakes them up into his arc reactor. The circle begins to glow as he pops the thing on his hand, pointing it at Bucky, adapting the classic Iron Man stance.

“If that thing can shoot, you better not be pointing it at me,” Bucky says, immediately frowning a perfect replica of Steve’s disapproving face. Tony wonders who got it from who.

Tony laughs instead of asking. “I might be able to shoot you, but I’d probably kill myself too,” he comments. Bucky tilts his head, and Tony snorts again. “Doesn’t have the right... wiring,” he explains vaguely. Bucky continues to look at him strangely, but doesn’t push Tony to explain.

“So that’s the armor?” Bucky asks instead. Tony unhooks the gauntlet and nods, setting it back down.

“Part of it,” Tony says. “It’s a whole suit.” He makes his way back to Bucky, offering to help him off the stool. Bucky goes easily, using U as extra leverage when his feet touch the floor. “The only one I have here got banged up, but you can see it in all its underwhelming glory.

Bucky nods and limps with Tony to the back of the workshop where his armor is disassembled in a sad looking pile. Despite the truly deplorable state of the armor, Bucky looks positively impressed.

“So you fly around in that?” Bucky clarifies.

“Yup.”

“And you can… shoot… with it?”

“Yup.”

“Shoot what? Bullets”

“Those and missiles… and well, repulsor blasts are pretty powerful too.” Tony grins at Bucky.

“Repulsor blasts?” Bucky asks.

“In the gauntlets. They run on energy created by an arc reactor – it’s an electromagnetic generator – they help me fly, but also can shoot the energy in bursts,” he explains.

“Sounds handy,” Bucky deadpans.

Tony squints at him for a second. “Did you just… did you just make a pun about my suit?” he asks, affronted. Bucky just laughs. Tony frowns at him. “Joke’s on you, I can shoot them out of the boots too,” he grumbles. Bucky is unrepentant.

Eventually, they end up on the workshop couch together, Tony spouting technobabble and Bucky interjecting surprisingly intelligent comments.

“The biggest problem is making the suit accessible in a pinch," Tony says, sipping on his third cup of coffee. “I can’t be Iron Man all the time, and I tried keeping the suit in a suitcase, but, despite the name,  it didn’t work out. I have bracelets too, but I haven’t worn them much before, so why would I start now?”

“Could try a belt,” Bucky points out. “Or make it something you don’t wear…”

“Never know when you’ll get caught with your pants down,” Tony agrees. He furrows his brow, thoughtful.

“You could make… electrodes, is that what they’re called? Like, the little… things… they use to monitor your heart rate… just the suction cups. You could stick them on… or are those too small?"

“Or better yet, stick them under the skin,” Tony mutters. He sits and thinks for a minute, Bucky watching him with a little frown. He would have to stick them under the skin, maybe in his arms… legs too. “That’s brilliant!” Tony shouts, shooting out of his seat and turning to face Bucky. “Stick it under the skin and they can’t take it away from you, right?”

“Woah, Tony. I didn’t say that. Are those even supposed to go under your skin? Won’t that hurt?” Bucky, unable to stand, brings his hands up in a calming gesture.

“Doesn’t matter. Small price to pay, you know? Can’t keep me from the suit if it’s under my skin.” Tony opens a holo screen with a flourish, already piecing together code for the call signs and blueprinting how the suit will come together.

“Tony, it’s 4 am. You can’t start this at a more decent time?” Bucky asks, catching Tony’s sleeve to get his attention.

“Can’t sleep anyway. Might as well work,” Tony replies swiftly.

“Maybe if you didn’t drink so much damn coffee…” Bucky mutters back, barely audible. Tony doesn’t respond in favor of telling Jarvis to start his working music.

By the time Tony has the code conceptualized and the plan drawn up for the new suit, Bucky has slumped into the couch, asleep. Tony can’t find it in himself to wake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come bother me on [tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	10. Forgive Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is guilty, goes for a run, meets someone new and becomes a double agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter! Title is from Thor. Seemed fitting.
> 
> Um... So important thing for this chapter and some of the next ones that I can't quite incorporate into the text without it being weird and out of place: Bucky and Steve do not think it's wrong to be gay. Steve, at the very least, knows it's not illegal and even if it was, I don't think he'd care. He's gonna do who he's gonna do. Bucky is the same way. What they're basically doing is friendzoning the shit out of each other because people can't do the do and ALSO be friends, that's absolutely unheard of! (intense sarcasm). Steve is also unsure if Tony's going to be a homophobic asshole hence being secretive about sharing a bed.
> 
> That's it. I'll try to figure out a way to work that into the text, but Bucky couldn't contain his flirts, so... 
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback! And I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“He wanted to see my bots!”

“So you kept him here all night?!”

Bucky drifts awake to the sound of arguing. He is slumped over on a couch, a throw blanket covering him feet to shoulders and a pillow under his head that smells musty. He grumbles, rolling slightly, stopping when his arm makes itself known.

“I was working!”

“That’s even worse! You drag him down here and ignore him?!”

“Shuddup,” Bucky demands, sitting up and rubbing at his gritty eyes. Surprisingly, both Tony and Steve go silent and turn to him. “I wanted to be down here. If I had wanted to go back up, I would have asked, or used U,” Bucky explains, shooting them both a grumpy glare.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Steve asks, sounding hurt. “Couldn’t find you this morning…”

“Because he’s an adult?” Tony interrupts before he can speak.

“He should still have the decency to tell me!” Steve starts to argue.

“You need to lay off. He’s your friend, not your kid. Pretty sure he can handle himself,” Tony says, jabbing a finger in Steve’s chest. “He’s a big boy, Steve.”

“I almost lost him!” Steve blurts, his voice almost echoing in the silence that follows. “I-I almost _killed_ him…” he continues, more quiet but just as desperate.

“Steve, you didn’t,” Bucky starts, but Steve continues on like he hasn’t heard.

“I did kill him, we were… he was dead and now… now Shield wants him for God knows what… and…” Steve trails off, fists clenched, staring at the ground, breath whistling, panicky, through his lungs. “I’m… I’m sorry, Buck. I can see why you’d want your space.” Without another word, Steve turns and walks swiftly towards the door.

“Wait!” Bucky calls immediately, already making to stand. Steve doesn’t pause, if anything he speeds up and is out the door before Bucky can make it to his feet. “Wait, goddamnit!” he shouts, even after the doors slide closed.

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the couch. “Calm down, Bucky, he just has to go cool off,” he says reassuringly. Bucky can’t help it, in one smooth movement he slaps Tony’s hand away, causing the genius to stumble back a few steps.

Bucky stares at Tony’s momentarily shocked and hurt face, before brushing past him. “Sorry,” he mutters as he exits the lab as well.

Despite his feet, Bucky skips the elevator in favor of bounding up the stairs. After a few flights he emerges on the floor Steve is apparently on, a large lobby area, completely empty. “Where is he, Jarvis?” Bucky pants, leaning against the wall for a spell before making his way into the lobby.

“He has left through the front doors,” Jarvis reports. Bucky curses and sprints to the doors, tugging at them and growling when they don’t immediately open. “I’m afraid I cannot let you out Sergeant Barnes.”

“Why the hell not?!” Bucky shouts, slamming his fist against the glass. He can see the ruin of New York outside the window, and the noise startles a few construction workers, but it’s obvious they can’t see past the tinted glass.

“Because no one’s supposed to know you’re awake, remember?” Tony’s voice cuts through the empty space. Bucky looks over to him, fist still against the glass. Tony is leaning against a reception desk, looking just as flustered as Bucky despite his tone. “Let him stew, he has to report to Shield today anyway. He’ll come back tonight.”

“Not like that,” Bucky insists. “I can’t let him… he thinks…” Bucky turns and slides down the glass to the floor. “He’s going to do something stupid.”

“Yup. Just like you,” Tony says, motioning to the faint bloody trail Bucky left on his way to the door. “Forget about your feet again? Or are you so impressed with my bots you want to keep using them?”

“I don’t give a shit about my feet,” Bucky spits. He rubs his hand over his face. “Holy shit, I thought we talked about this…” he mutters. “Thought he was okay…” In addition to being incredibly angry that Steve simply walked out on him, Bucky feels a consuming guilt, that he made Steve feel this way. That he thought Bucky blamed him. Sure, he wished there had been another way, one that resulted in them still having friends and, in his case, a family, but he didn’t blame Steve for it.

He can vaguely feel Tony sitting next to him and calling for Bruce. A hesitant hand settles on Bucky’s shoulder. He doesn’t shrug Tony off, still feeling guilty about pushing him away earlier. Tony had just wanted to help.

“Sorry… for hitting you,” Bucky says, feeling infantile. “Panicked.”

Tony snorts, a thumb rubbing over Bucky’s shoulder blade reassuringly. “Didn’t hurt me,” he says, and Bucky can hear the lie. “I’m fine.” Maybe Bucky didn’t hurt Tony physically, but he definitely , at least temporarily, ruined whatever companionable trust they had built the night previous.

“Still sorry,” Bucky insists, not one to enjoy back tracking. “Thousand other ways I could have done that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Didn’t try to kill me, already doing better than most,” Tony says flippantly. Somehow that doesn’t make Bucky feel any better.

Bruce shows up a few minutes later, looking down at the bloody footprints on the floor and then accusatively at Tony and Bucky. “I thought I told you not to walk unassisted,” he says, disapproval clear in his voice.

“Steve had a meltdown and ran out on him, so I think he can be excused,” Tony defends. “Anyway, he’s got the serum, he’ll heal eventually, even if he runs marathons on those feet. Jarvis, call Dummy down, Bucky’s going to need his helper again.”

“He’ll heal, but it’s a matter of in a few weeks versus a few months if he keeps breaking them open,” Bruce chides, already working on patching up Bucky’s feet. “How’s your pain?” he asks, looking up at Bucky.

“Been better, been worse,” Bucky replies unhelpfully. He doesn’t feel he deserves pain medication at this point, not with how Steve no doubt feels.

“You hurt, then,” Bruce surmises impatiently. Bucky winces. “I’ll get you an auto-injector. Jarvis said you do better administering it yourself.”

Bucky nods dumbly, looking up when a shrill beep echoes through the space. Dummy roles to Bucky’s side quickly, pausing shortly to examine Bruce before offering Bucky his claw.

“Thanks, pal,” Bucky praises, using Dummy’s claw to hoist himself up. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Dummy makes a pleased noise, already rolling forward to help Bucky walk.

“You would use me,” Tony pipes up from behind them.

Bucky snorts. “I don’t know… at least Dummy doesn’t huff and puff like he’s carrying a lead weight.”

“Hey! He’s made to lift heavy equipment, what does that say about you?” Tony shoots back, patting Dummy’s chassis.

“That you can’t lift for shit,” Bucky says, laughing. Banner follows behind them as they banter, a small smile twisting his lips.

It’s only after Steve is already outside the Tower and half way through his second lap of central park, running off the anger he feels at Tony, Bucky and himself, does Steve realize Bucky couldn’t have followed him. He was starting to feel betrayed, usually when he runs off, Bucky is after him like a shot. Bucky isn’t out here chasing after Steve because he doesn’t care, he couldn’t have followed him because of his feet. Steve stops abruptly, groaning aloud and burying his face in his hands. Bucky’s feet, goddamnit. Not to mention the fact Jarvis might not have let him out anyway. He’s supposed to be a secret. He sinks down onto a nearby bench, berating himself for being so stupid.

“You okay, man? Pull a muscle of something?” Steve jumps as a voice pulls him out of his thoughts. There is a man standing in front of him, running shoes and shorts, military t-shirt, dark skin and matching dark eyes. Steve stares at him dumbly for a moment, before the man speaks again. “Sorry. You lapped me pretty good and then just stopped. Thought we were racing, so I got a little worried.” The last bit is obviously a joke, because he smiles warmly at Steve.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine… just realized I did something stupid,” Steve says, despite himself.

The man sits down next to him without being asked. “Oh, damn. Think I pulled something trying to catch up with you,” the man says. He unhooks a water bottle from his pack and offers it to Steve before taking a drink himself when it’s refused. “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Wilson.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve replies and watches in amusement as Sam nearly chokes on the water he was about to swallow.

“That explains the…” Sam splutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wow, sorry, knew you were here, didn’t expect to run into you.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day,” Steve sighs, rubbing his face. Sam places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, man, I can leave if you want. Just saw a fella in need, wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything,” Sam offers amicably.

“I can appreciate that,” Steve says. “You don’t have to leave, it’s actually nice to see an… unfamiliar face,” he admits, looking over to Sam. “I… uh… you in the military?” Steve segued, not to smoothly.

“Used to be pararescue,” Sam replies, grinning at him.” “I’m out now, but I came to New York to help with the cleanup.” He motions around them. The park they’re in is relatively untouched, but beyond there is still a lot of wreckage.

“That’s good of you,” Steve remarks, but Sam shakes his head.

“Not like I got much else to be doing now anyway,” Sam replies. He sounds bitter. He takes a breath. “So what are you doing out here not suited up?” Sam asks, curiosity clear. “Figured after what you’ve been though, you would want to surround yourself with familiar faces.”

“Even when they’re all you know, familiar faces can get old after a while,” Steve says. He knows his smile has taken on a strained quality. Lose one disability, end up with another. “Besides, I haven’t gotten to do much exploring New York without aliens involved.”

Sam, surprisingly, is graceful and takes the hint. “How’s cleanup going on your end?” he questions, leaning back against the bench. “My end…” he continues. “Not so good. The neighborhoods that got hit the hardest were already in bad shape. Now we’ve got more homeless than we can shelter… looters… it’s pretty bad.”

They dissolve then into talking about recovery efforts. Then about Steve’s life now, what parts of the papers’ stories are true and what isn’t. Steve carefully steers the conversation clear of Bucky, but he is happy to chatter about the Avengers, and Sam seems even happier to listen. By the time his phone chimes, Jarvis letting him know he should be heading over to Shield, he has a laundry list of things to discuss with both Fury and Stark about making the city livable again. Maybe even better.

He leaves with Sam’s personal phone number scrawled along the back of a business card for a Veteran’s association in DC. Steve doesn’t miss the message there. He knows he needs help, he just doesn’t know if Sam can provide the sort he needs.

Natasha catches him halfway to the Shield headquarters in a sleek black car, grinning, amused at him as she cruises along at his running speed. “Even running, you’re going to be late,” she comments over the rumbling of the engine.

Steve slows to a jog and then a stop with the car. “Wouldn’t want that,” he says wryly.

Natasha snorts. “Not with Fury, no. Though he may make an exception, you being a Senior citizen and all,” she says. She pops the lock on the door. “Get in, Rogers,” she commands and Steve obliges, letting himself into the car.

“So,” Natasha begins, once he is settled and buckled. “I was expecting to pick you up from Stark Tower,” she says, it coming out as more of a question.

Steve frowns, burrowing further into the seat. “Was getting stir crazy,” he says blandly.

“Or tired of Stark,” Natasha adds knowingly. “What did he do this time?”

“Told the truth,” Steve says, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “ _He_ … needed his space and so did I, so… I went for a run.”

“He?” Natasha asks, smirking slightly. Steve shoots her a flat look. He knows the chances this car is not bugged are very low, if not non-existent. She nods, letting him know she understands. “Stark’s like that,” she says vaguely. “He means well, for both of you.”

Steve’s shoulders deflate. “I know that now,” he says. “By the time I figured it out, it was a little too late to walk back and be in time for my… appointment.”

“You could have called,” Natasha suggests, shooting a meaningful look towards Steve’s phone.

“Doesn’t that seem a little… artificial?” Steve asks, genuine. “We need to have a conversation.”

“Tony grew up with artificial. Using Starktime isn’t any different than face to face,” Natasha asserts.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Steve says. They pull up to the curve in front of Shield’s offices, a small building for New York, masquerading as a private credit union. He opens the car door and gets out. “Besides, he can’t hang up on me face to face.”

“He can run away,” Natasha says, rolling down the window as Steve shuts the door.

“Not faster than I can catch him,” Steve promises as Natasha drives away.

 

“Bucky! Do you know how to use a soldering iron?” Tony asks as soon as the elevator doors open to the group floor. He catches the tail end of a melody played slowly on the old piano followed by a few disjointed notes and then laughter.

“No,” Bucky replies. Tony peers around a corner to see Bucky sitting at the old baby grand piano, U at his shoulder peering at the keys. “Your piano is out of tune,” he says.

“I’ll get someone in to take care of it,” Tony says dismissively. “You play?”

“Not anymore,” Bucky replies breezily and Tony winces. Shit. “Was teaching U how to play.”

“Good luck,” Tony says, flicking U’s claw. “He doesn’t have very good articulation to begin with.” As if to prove this, U slams a bunch of keys down, making a very displeasing noise. Tony flinches, but Bucky chuckles. “Well, put that bot to better use, I need someone with five fingers in the lab and Bruce is busy.”

“Probably want someone with two hands,” Bucky points out, but he allows U to help him up from the seat.

“Nope, only need one. Why do you think I build all my bots with one arm?” Tony insists, perfectly aware that he is treading on eggshells. Luckily, Bucky just snorts at him and follows.

They travel down to the lab floor again. Tony teaches Bucky how to use the soldering iron safely, and then proceeds to follow exactly none of the rules he set forth even as Bucky gives him disapproving looks. He really did need Bucky though. The gauntlet he was designing needed soldering for a circuit board that was too small and fragile for Dummy or U. He and Bucky took turns positioning and soldering the small connections, Bucky with an almost reverent amount of concentration.

 Eventually though, inevitably, Tony slips and burns himself. Instead of an ‘I told you so’ from Bucky, he is accosted by the sergeant. Bucky grabs his hand and commands U to get water from the fridge. He uncaps it with his teeth, and positioning Tony’s hand away from the electronics, trickles water over the burn.

“This is why we wear gloves, huh?” Bucky asks unhappily, quirking an eyebrow at Tony.

“I swear this doesn’t usually happen,” Tony deadpans. To his surprise, Bucky chuckles.

“Can tell that’s not true,” Bucky says. He sets the water down and just holds Tony's hand for a moment, examining it. Tony looks down where Bucky is leaned over his hand. He watches and feels as Bucky runs his thumb over Tony’s fingers, stopping at every raised scar and callus. “You should wear gloves.” Tony finds himself face to face with Bucky as he looks up. Blue eyes, soft lips surrounded by stubble thick enough to be called a beard. Bucky hasn’t shaved since he woke up.

“Do you want to shave?” Tony asks on autopilot, then falls off the stool trying to back away from Bucky. He falls flat on his ass and stands up brushing non-existent dust from his thighs and rubbing his tail bone. “Ow,” he says loudly and dramatically. He looks up to Bucky to see him observing Tony with a tiny frown, a furrow between his brows.

Bucky reaches up and scratches the beard. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine. That…” Tony motions to the place where he had fallen. “Does happen a lot,” he clarifies. It had nothing to do with the fact that despite being sleep mussed, un-showered and down a limb, Bucky is still gorgeous. Or the fact that no one touches his hands like that, not even his lovers.

“If you say so,” Bucky says, frown disappearing in favor of a smile. “And yeah, I’d like to shave. This thing itches.” He picks the discarded soldering iron, now melting a welt into the metal surface of the table, and puts it back in its holder. “You done with this?” he asks, flicking his head towards the table.

“Yeah. I should take a break anyway,” Tony agrees, running a hand through his hair. “How about lunch and then I’ll teach you the wonders of electric razors?”

Bucky agrees enthusiastically.

Tony orders out, shawarma, because it’s his new favorite food, Bruce will eat it, and Bucky has never had it before. Bucky is a fan within the first few bites, and although he doesn’t eat nearly as much as Steve, the super soldier appetite is definitely apparent.

Later, after Bucky has trimmed his beard into something resembling stubble still uncomfortable with the way the electric razor buzzes, and not quite up to the new compact blades that Tony owns, Tony catches him staring out the window of Steve’s art room. He is curled in the comfy chair in the corner. Dummy is sitting next to him, holding an empty auto-injector of pain medication. Outside, the sun is setting over Manhattan. When it’s cast in shadow, it’s hard to see all the damage.

“This is nice,” Bucky says, turning to Tony when the door swings as he enters. It detaches from the top set of hinges and thumps against the wall. “Steve never uses it though.”

“Hasn’t had the time,” Tony says, futilely attempting to push the door back onto the hinges. It only serves to detach the entire door.

“Thought we only had to worry about the Hulk damaging property,” Bucky comments, a smirk brightening his previously melancholic expression.

Tony sets the door against the wall. “What can I say, that door was pissing me off,” Tony chuckles. “So what’s up, Buttercup?”

“I… never got to see the sunset above the skyline,” Bucky says, turning his head back to the window. “Even from the top of our apartment building, there was always another building in the way. Guess the future ain’t so bad.”

“Ain’t so bad,” Tony asks in mock insult. “Compared to the forties, I’d say it’s a little better than that.”

Bucky sighs, tucking his head against the back of the seat. Tony hadn’t imagined Bucky to be one to curl up. He would think Bucky would sprawl and take up as much space as possible. Bucky cuts through that odd train of thought. “He isn’t back yet,” Bucky says quietly.

“He will be. Probably swamped with paperwork. He’ll be back soon,” Tony assures. He places a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder as the sun tips behind the horizon. “Where else is he going to go?”

“You’d be surprised,” Bucky says softly. “Once… he was mad about something or other. Stayed out all night in December. Came home the next day with a black eye and a fever,” Bucky reminisces, eyes going distant. “Scared… scared the shit out of me. Thought he got himself killed. Or wouldn’t come back… now he doesn’t have a reason to…” he trails off.

“He’ll come back,” Tony promises. “If not. I’ll find him. Not many places you can hide with a face like his.”

“Face like whose?” a tentative voice asks from the doorway. Tony turns to see Steve standing there, thick manila folder in hand, looking sheepish. “It’s official,” he says when they turn to him. “I’m your double agent.”

Tony grins and turns back to Bucky, and instead of the expected relief, he sees anger. “Woah, what’s got—“ he begins to say, but then Bucky is shooting forward out of the chair and marching towards Steve.

“Hey Buck, sorry about—“ Steve’s no doubt heartfelt and earnest apology is interrupted by Bucky slamming his fist into his jaw.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry!!” Bucky near shouts, anger apparent in every syllable. “What the hell was that?! Running God knows where without letting me get a word in?! You better be fucking sorry!” Steve stutters something, but Bucky grabs a handful of his shirt and with surprising strength, pushes Steve into the wall. The manila folder drops from Steve’s hands and the papers scatter around their feet as Bucky pins Steve to the wall, making furious eye contact. “No. My turn to talk, since you were so keen on running off earlier. It ain’t your fault what’s happening to me. I made my decisions and I gotta pay the price for them. Would’ve gotten on that plane no matter what, you hear me? No matter what. You didn’t kill me. It ain’t your fault. Now stop acting like it is, you selfish bastard!”

Bucky pauses, Steve still pinned against the wall, as if waiting for a response. “Okay…” Steve says, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s, loosening fingers from the fabric of his shirt. “You’re… you’re talking about choices, Bucky, but… I made the decision to put the plane down… I…” he trails off when Bucky makes an unhappy grunt.

“Ain’t your fault. Just the hand you were dealt,” Bucky insists. His voice is softer now, hand resting on Steve’s chest rather than grasping. “You can’t do this like this, Steve. Things just happen. You can’t do anything about them. It isn’t your fault, not now, not ever, you hear me?”

Steve nods and swallows, looking like he is just about on the verge of tear and in the interest of sparing himself from seeing Captain America cry, Tony cuts in. “Bucky, what did Bruce say about being on your feet?” he asks in his best Pepper impression. To Tony’s immense satisfaction, Bucky looks rightfully chastised and steps away from Steve, motioning for Dummy to come over.

Steve inhales deeply through his nose and scrubs at his eyes for a few seconds while Tony does a truly heroic job of ignoring it. When Steve is done, he leans down and gathers up the manila folder and the scattered papers, proffering them to Tony. “Here, I though you would want to look at these. They’re the parameters for my first mission. I leave Monday for somewhere in Cambodia.”

“They don’t waste time…” Tony says, flipping idly through the pages. Bucky, having had sufficient time to cool down, hovers over his shoulder, looking at the papers curiously.

“So soon? Didn’t you just save New York?” Bucky asks. He reaches over to stop Tony from flipping past the mission parameters. He makes a low whistling noise. “This is all stealth, Steve, you sure you can swing it?” he sounds worried. Tony flips past it to look at his equipment.

“Natasha will be with me, she’ll be doing most of the sneaking around,” Steve replies.

“The red haired dame?” Bucky asks, just as Tony makes a tsking noise.

“What is this shittastic suit they’re giving you?” Tony says, sounding affronted. “Have you even tried it on yet? Does this fabric even stop bullets?”

“That’s what the shield is for,” Steve points out. Tony continues to make discontented noises as he flips through the pages.

“Why do these people have a preference for you in spandex?” Bucky adds helpfully. “Know you got a nice ass, but this is excessive.”

Tony stops for a moment, before he throws his head back and laughs. “I’m making you a new suit. They don’t need to know why. This is sad.”

“I’m not wearing one of your suits,” Steve says with a wrinkled nose. “That’s even more noticeable than the last one.” His distaste is clear in his voice, Tony ignore him.

“Would be bullet proof though. Could add more weight too, since you’re bigger,” Tony looks up to Steve, wheels already turning for a Cap-themed Iron Man line of suits. Steve continues to look incredibly uninterested, and Tony sighs. “I will make you something… but maybe without repulsors.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “I will use some form of fabric. If I didn’t know better, I would think you wanted to wear the spandex.”

“Maybe I do,” the Captain replies, smirking in a way that does funny things to Tony’s stomach.

“That explains it,” Bucky says, as if he just received a revelation. “Thought you liked the flag, but no, you just want to show off your ass.”

“I’m not complaining, the flag looks good on his ass,” Tony says absently, more focused on Natasha’s equipment description. Some things don’t add up in the weight department, she has less than the final total carrying weight would warrant. The room is silent for a bit too long and Tony looks up. “What?” Steve is somewhat red, and Bucky is smirking, but eyeing Tony with something like curiosity or wariness, considering where they are from. “It isn’t a lie,” Tony defends, clutching the manila folder to his chest.

“Sure isn’t,” Bucky says after a pause. Steve turns a shade darker, right to the tips of his ears.

“Bucky!” he almost squeaks, sounding offended.

“Don’t worry, Cap, I’ll make sure to accentuate it. It’s your best feature, after all,” Tony says easily, winking at Steve.

Steve frowns, chewing his lip. “At least ass isn’t the defining point of my personality.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am also on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	11. Frozen in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve leaves on his first mission and everything is absolutely fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the last chapter that I have pre-written for this story! I was actually trying to avoid this, but meh, what are you going to do?
> 
> Chapter title is from the Winter Soldier soundtrack and was originally going to be the title for this fic until I found a better one. Fun facts!
> 
> I guess I should set out some warnings for this chapter now: Bucky struggles with, I suppose, a type of survivor's guilt in this chapter and the ones following, meaning he's grappling with a whole bunch of things, like depression, anxiety, nightmares, and PTSD. Mainly he is struggling with the fact that he is alive when he feels he shouldn't be. If any of that is going to trigger you, for instance if you struggle with suicidal ideation or thoughts, this fic is probably not going to be your cup of tea and I will update the tags accordingly. I have another warning, but it's spoilery, so it will be in the notes below! Please look if you're worried about triggers!
> 
> alright, now that I've gotten that taken care of. I would like to thank you all for all your support! You reviews really blow me away with how encouraging and thoughtful they are and I really appreciate them!!
> 
> Enjoy!

After Steve has cooled down and Bucky has stopped making himself wheeze with laughter, Tony practically disappears with Steve’s folder. Steve isn’t sure if Tony was serious about redesigning his suit, or if he is more interested in the information Steve managed to collect… or if Tony actually thinks Steve’s ass looks nice.

He is used to the compliments from Bucky, assurances and lewd comments alike. But Bucky has always said them. Whether Steve was five foot three and bonier than anything, or six foot two and a walking dream for the dames, Bucky always had something nice to say about how he looked. This was the first time Tony has ever said anything that wasn’t underhanded in some way, and maybe Steve was overthinking it, he couldn’t be honestly sure. The tension between them had certainly eased up since the Helicarrier, so maybe this was how Tony acted when he was comfortable.

Steve never got a chance to ask Tony, since he never caught the genius alone. He was always either with Bucky, or locked in his lab, sometimes both at the same time. Not that he would ask, even if he could. As curious as he was, he didn’t want to be teased and Lord knows Tony would. So whether he caught Tony alone or not, it didn’t really matter.

He didn’t blame Tony for spending so much time with Bucky though. His friend had been another source of concern for Steve. The Sergeant was content enough when he was with Steve, Tony or even Bruce, but in those rare moments when Steve caught him alone, Bucky looked more melancholic than Steve had ever seen him. The dark circles under his eyes only grew more pronounced, even with the amount of time Bucky spent sleeping and he often sighed or stared off forlornly. It was hard to get him excited for anything anymore.

When he had spoken to Bruce about it, he seemed worried too, but he chalked it up to the painkillers. They were supposed to make him lethargic and drowsy, but that didn’t explain the underlying sadness that seemed to show through even Bucky’s movements. However, Bucky continued to insist he was fine, so Steve had to content himself with warily watching his friend.

The weekend was up too soon, and Steve found himself packed up and ready to leave on his first mission. In no time, he is standing in the back entrance to Stark Tower, Bucky giving him a firm hug. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says as he moves away.

“Leaving all the stupid with you,” Steve replies dutifully. “I’m hoping Bruce will keep you and Tony from blowing up New York,” he adds, shooting the aforementioned inventor a meaningful glance.

Tony just winks and grins wickedly. “Don’t worry, Cap. We won’t blow up all of New York,” he says, striding up and placing a supportive hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’ll make sure they don’t hurt themselves,” Bruce adds.

There is a honk from outside the entrance, a sleek looking vehicle can be seen pulling up along the curb and idling, Natasha. Tony steps forward and clasps Steve’s hand firmly. “Good luck, Cap,” he says earnestly, holding Steve’s eyes. He lets go, but there is a moment where Steve feels like he should pull Tony into a hug as well. But if the genius wanted one, he probably would have initiated it, so Steve just squeezes his hand briefly before letting go.

Bruce does the exact same thing, only it is not nearly as awkward. He keeps hold of Steve’s wrist for a tad longer, fixing him with an intense and serious look. He doesn’t say anything, but to wish him luck, but the message is clear. Steve needs to come back in one piece. Steve returns the look, making a silent promise. He wouldn’t let Bucky down.

Bucky gives him one last hug that neither Bruce nor Tony question and then Steve is walking out and into his new job, wishing, not for the first time that weekend, that he had the Commandos at his back. If he had a second choice, it would be Natasha, he supposes, but shipping out with anyone else just does not feel the same.

Tony watches as Bucky practically deflates as the car Steve entered drives away. He leans heavily against Dummy and wilts like a plant that’s lost its source of sun. Tony and Bruce share a look of concern before Tony strides up to him and gently touches Bucky’s shoulder. The sergeant looks to him with slightly wet eyes. Bucky didn’t seem to notice however.

“Now I know how Steve felt,” Bucky says thickly. He turns away from the door, Dummy moving with him almost seamlessly now that the bot has learned Bucky’s movement cues. “Don’t wanna leave him by himself. He’ll do something stupid.”

“Natasha will keep him in check,” Bruce says reassuringly.

“Ain’t no one can keep him in check,” Bucky shoots back, though there is a ghost of a smile on his lips, so Tony counts it as a win. “Natasha seemed something fierce though… rather her than anyone else.”

Tony refrains from commenting that Natasha is as reckless as Steve and has what seems to be a separate mission from the Captain. Steve would be fine… probably. If he wasn’t, Tony would be the first to know. The tracker he had stuck to Steve’s wrist measured his pulse and temperature, after all. Assuming he didn’t manage to brush it off, Tony would know how Steve was well as where he was.

“Don’t worry about it, Bucky,” Tony says breezily. “You’ll give yourself… ulcers, was it? Don’t want any of those.” He points towards the elevator with his thumb. “Wanna give Steve a couple of his own? We can finish that gauntlet design and I want you input on the rest of the suit.”

“My imput?” Tony, I’m from the 1940’s, remember?” Bucky says, even as he follows Tony to the elevators. “Could probably let you know if it has enough limbs… maybe.”

“Fine… how about Steve’s new suit. I want your input on the design,” Tony says, turning to walk backwards into the elevator. Bucky follows despite his words. “Steve seems to think I need some instruction in color coordination.”

“You’re looking at the guy who wore all blue for every raid. I’m probably not your best choice,” Bucky insists again.

“Just tell me what will bother Steve the most,” Tony advises, waving his hand. “Apparently he thinks red and gold is tacky… what does he think about orange and purple?”

Bucky crinkles his nose. “Are you serious, Stark?” he asks, leaning against Dummy. “I think you should stick to red, white and blue…” Bucky says. Tony is about to comment about him being boring before he continues. “Put a big white star on his ass.”

Tony laughs so hard he snorts. “That’s the _star_ attraction, isn’t it?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows at the other man. It gets a hardy laugh out of Bucky, and Tony in turn laughs again too.

They exit the elevator and make their way into the lab, both still laughing and then finally calming as the doors slide shut behind them. It’s quite, suddenly, just their breathing occupying the quiet space and Tony turns to see a laugh flushed and softly smiling Bucky, staring back at him. He nearly trips over his own feet making his way to the work table.

Instead, he makes it over and motions for Bucky, opening another holographic screen that holds the plans for Steve’s new suit. He has only the most cutting edge of technology packed into it, form fitting, but armored, padded in the bendy places with heavy duty bullet and knife resistant material. The only thing that’s missing is the actual aesthetic designs, as well as any extra weapons in addition to the shield Steve might consider packing.

Bucky, the quick learner he is, rotates the image, looking over the specs and flips through several of the preliminary designs. “None of these are orange and purple, Tony,” Bucky says in mock disappointment.

“You could help me design one,” Tony prompts. “Honestly, I’ve never been big on aesthetics… unless they’re cars. I usually go with whatever’s the most eye catching, which according to Pepper is not always the most tasteful.”

“No… not really,” Bucky agrees, squinting at one design with elongated wings just above Steve’s ears. The shoulder pads resemble more Iron Man’s and the suit itself is more tech than fabric or practicality. “Were you drunk when you designed this one?”

“No!” Tony says, offended. He bit his lip for a moment, thinking about how to explain that was a take on a design he had made as a kid. “Just… an option.”

“Look, I’m all for sticking him in a bullet proof metal suit, but he ain’t gonna go for that,” Bucky says reasonably. He manages to flip to a ‘default’ design. “Can I edit this? How?” he pauses to ask. Tony leans over him and shows him how to navigate the controls. As he does this, Bucky continues speaking. “You’re gonna have to go with something that lets him move. He’s used to fighting in my hand-me-down pants and bargain shirts that were three sizes too big. Lots of free movement, but loose fabric isn’t practical in the field. Gonna have to sacrifice armor for flexibility, Steve was always a fast little punk.”

“He also likes being a bullet catcher,” Tony interjects. He had seen the way Steve fought. He didn’t dodge bullets, he ran right towards them.

“Don’t I know it,” Bucky replies with a heavy sigh. “Catches punches with his face, surprised he looks so pretty.” Still, the build he chooses for the suit has minimal armor except for where Steve’s vitals are and is flexible Kevlar everywhere else. “He knows what he’s doing though. He catches bullets, but he can take them… as much as I hate saying that…” As he says it, he adds some armor to Steve’s chest and neck. “Bad at keeping his head down… relies on that shield, but then he isn’t small anymore, can’t hide all of himself behind it…”

Tony reaches over and adds knee-pads, strengthens the material in the boots.

Bucky is warm against his side. Tony hadn’t meant to stand so near to him, but now that he is here he can feel the minute shifts as Bucky moves his arm. He can feel Bucky’s chest expand as he breaths in and deflate as he lets it out in a sigh. He looks over from their design to see Bucky’s brow scrunched in concentration, the way he chews the inside of his cheek while he thinks.

“… Tony?” Tony catches the tail end of whatever Bucky was saying and snaps back to the design.

“Huh?” Tony asks, looking to where Bucky is motioning on the schematic. It already looks better than what he came up with on his own. Though it is not nearly as armored as he would like it, it’s light weight, allows for good movement and protects Steve where he needs it most.

Bucky smiles a funny smile at him, curious and amused. “I was asking how you make changes to the looks… he thinks the head wings are stupid, but they’re funny, so I want to add them,” he says, watching Tony closely.

“Oh… yeah. Yeah!” Tony barks out a laugh that only serves to startle them both and perpetuate a really uncomfortable silence. He bites his lip and changes modes, so that Bucky can begin molding and re-sizing things for the suit. Luckily Tony had Jarvis fabricate a small stash of cosmetic additions that are patriotically themed, so Bucky doesn’t have to do much building of his own.

Bucky pauses with his finger over the two little wings for Steve's head, still eyeing Tony, but now with open concern. “Maybe… we should take a break?” he asks.

“No, it’s fine. I was just thinking,” Tony says dismissively, already pulling the wings from the stash, the ones he had modeled earlier for the original design. He adds them to the helmet. “You said you wanted head wings?”

Bucky sighs, but allows for the distraction. He makes the wings smaller, not as elongated, which makes Tony somewhat sad, so he selects a star and pastes it directly over the ass. Bucky snorts a laugh.

“Of course,” Bucky says. “I’d say you have a fixation, Stark,” he accuses jokingly, flipping the model around again to edit the chest plate.

“Can you blame me?” Tony asks, showing Bucky how to switch between color pallets. “It might be small, but that thing is practically chiseled out of stone.” He resists the urge to slap himself in the mouth. “Well… I mean—“

Bucky just laughs. “Got that right,” he says fondly. “Kinda jealous, you know? Ain’t nobody got eyes for me when you’ve got someone like Steve walking around.” He doesn’t sound bitter, just matter-of-fact, almost proud.

“You’re nothing to sneeze at either, Barnes,” Tony says anyway.

“Maybe.” Bucky tilts his head at Tony, that funny little smile back on his face. “But it’s odd… Other people having eyes for Steve, not just me…” His eyes widen at the end of the sentence, obviously it was a slip of the tongue. “Er… I mean… you know when he was… little, smaller… Felt like I was the only one who saw anything in him.”

Tony knows there’s truth in both those sentences, but he is more interested in the first. “Steve told me about that,” he says, adding an Avenger’s A insignia to the shoulder of the uniform before pulling it off and adding a star. “You used to get him dates all the time. Hard to imagine him not getting any on his own, even if he was tiny. Things were different then, though, huh?” he asks. Not waiting for an answer, he continues. “Tiny wasn’t endearing… nowadays some women like them small.” He didn’t even bother to mention that men do too, probably did back then as well.

“He wasn’t just small, he was sick. Usually a big turn-off when he starts hacking his lungs out in the middle of a date,” Bucky says. He pauses for a moment, chewing his cheek. “One good thing that came out of all of this. Don’t have to worry about him dying young.”

Tony doesn’t mention Steve having every possibility of dying on a mission, since it makes his own stomach twist at the thought. “Well, you’re also in the future. That’s pretty good,” he says. Bucky eyes him warily, but doesn’t say anything. Tony doesn’t let it slide. “You were excited the past couple of days, what happened?” he asks trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

Bucky chews his lip for a few seconds, jaw clenching. “I…” he starts waveringly and breathy. He lets out a breath and inhales. “I died,” he says, this time stronger. “Don’t know if Steve told you, I left behind a sister and a mother. Ma probably died thinking I was never gonna come home… Becca too, she’s dead too. I’ve got nieces and nephews that have kids that are almost my age that I don’t have the guts to meet.” He pauses to take another breath. “All I got is Steve and he’s running off on more missions that are new and even more secret and dangerous and I can’t even go watch his back. Yeah… the future’s great, but I got no business being here. I should’ve stayed dead,” he finishes. His hand is shaking as draws lines off the tips of the white star on the uniform’s chest, little red, white, and blue streaks that wrap across the chest and underneath it.

Tony is quiet for a while, unsure of how to make an argument against that. “That’s a rude thing to say to the guy who thawed you out,” he says instead, folding his arms over his chest.

“Sorry…” Bucky says meekly. “Thanks, but you shouldn’t have,” he finishes. He grabs Dummy and walks away, leaving Tony in a mess of frustration and some kind of deep aching hurt.

After a few moments of indecision, he closes the design program, swiping fingers through it violently, and slams himself down onto the bench seat. He isn’t going to go after Bucky, especially without any plan on how to persuade him that he shouldn’t be dead. Tony is a man of logic, even if many people say he isn’t and logically, Bucky should be dead, so should Steve. They should have died in that plane when it went down instead of being resurrected in a time they would never have lived to see and a place that was no longer familiar to them.

Still, Tony is a problem solver and one of Bucky’s main complaints is that he can't go back to the field. He can’t shoot a gun, or even open a can by himself anymore. This is a problem Tony can solve, even if the technology for it doesn't exist yet.

“Jarvis, open project Bucky Bear,” he says swiftly. “And play my work playlist.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t follow after Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis says, an odd note of concern in his voice.

“And do what?” Tony asks in annoyance. “No, just open the damn project and play my music,” he says, already settling down to work.

Bucky ends up on his and Steve’s floor, walking sluggishly through the empty apartment, chewing through his lip. His chest was twisting up, guilt at how he treated Tony and an underlying heavy sadness that sat like a rock and never let up. He felt heavy, and sleepy, his feet were hurting and so was his arm, a grim reminder that he would never be whole again. He knew that even if they cleared up this whole situation with Shield, he could never go back into the field with Steve.

He makes his way to the guest bedroom, his bedroom, and flops down on the bed, practically sinking into the mattress. Dummy makes quiet beep of concern as he settles, trying clumsily to pull the comforter over Bucky even as he laid half way on it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says quietly, rolling so that his feet are on the mattress, slipping them under the blanket as Dummy pulls it snugly up to his neck. He looks at the little robot once he rolls back after satisfactorily tucking Bucky in. “You can go back to Tony now,” he says. “Let him know I’m sorry.” He sighs heavily, rolling over to the other side, Steve’s side, of the bed, inhaling the blonde’s scent. He hears Dummy roll away and out of the room, leaving the door open and Bucky doesn’t have the energy to close it.

He wonders muzzily at how Steve became his world. At how Steve literally is his world now that everyone else is gone. Is this how Steve had felt after his mom died? Does he still feel that way now? He fists his hand in the pillows the blonde had been using, pulling them closer and allowing himself to bury his face into something familiar. Steve still smells the same as before the serum and before the ice. The war couldn’t take that away from him.

The sound of the elevator doors opening pulls him out of his thoughts and his breath catches before he evens it out, rolling tighter into the blankets and shutting his eyes. He listens as footsteps make their way down the hall, and fabric brushes against the door frame.

“Bucky?” Bruce whispers quietly, obviously trying not to wake him if he is asleep. Bucky feigns sleep, not in the mood to talk with even Bruce.

To his silent dismay, Bruce sighs and makes his way farther into the room. He hears the bedside drawer slide open, and Bruce rummage around for a bit. He can hear the scratching of a pen on paper for a few minutes, then the tap as Bruce sets it and something else down on the bedside table. He leaves just as silently as he came, pausing and giving another sigh before making his way to the elevators and off the floor. Bucky doesn’t bother sitting up and instead lets the heaviness in his chest weigh down his eyes and carry him into sleep.

Bucky dreams about the plane. He and Steve were wedged somewhere dark, Bucky tucked underneath Steve. They were lying in a puddle of freezing water, already an inch high and the sound of metal creaking and glass giving way filled the air around them, making Bucky flinch and jump. He extracted himself from Steve weakly, already shaking uncontrollably in the cold.

“We gotta get out of here, Steve,” he slurred. Moving his head made the whole plane spin around him and he paused to pant, watching as blood dripped from his brow and into the puddle, it was already an opaque pink. Panicked, he turned his attention to Steve. The Captain's eyes were closed, lips already turning faintly blue from the cold.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, making his head throb. “Come on!” The blonde didn't budge, even as Bucky shook him. Bucky swallowed thickly and checked Steve's breathing, sighing in relief when he felt a puff of barely warm air from Steve’s nose. He was just unconscious.

Bucky made it shakily to his knees, his other arm refusing to respond, wrapped as tightly as it was in his own blue jacket. He had a decent grip on Steve’s suspender, readying to heave him out of the space underneath the console, but then the plane lurched forward sending him face first into Steve’s chest. Something broke behind them, flooding even more water into the front of the plane.

Bucky slapped frantically and helplessly at Steve’s face, tears leaking down his own to mix with the blood. “C-come on, punk! I ain’t leaving you here,” he stuttered, teeth chattering. “What- what’s the super serum even good for if a little plane crash takes you out of commission?” he joked weakly.

Bruce makes his way into the elevator from Bucky’s room, resisting the urge to tut worriedly. Bucky has only been awake around six hours, after over twelve hours of rest. He should not be this tired, even with the drowsiness the pain medication causes. This paired with Bucky’s overall melancholic attitude these past days concerns him.

He had expected Bucky to have trouble adjusting, what with not only waking up in a new time and place, but also finding out he had the serum. Soldiers had enough trouble recovering from their experiences in war, let alone all of the things both he and Steve had to get through. On top of that, Steve seems to be adapting just fine, albeit a little slowly. He has made great leaps since Bucky woke up, providing him with support and someone who shares his experience. Bruce had figured the same would happen for Bucky, but it is not the case. If anything, Bucky appears to be getting worse, becoming more and more sad and isolated as Steve adjusts to the world around him.

The elevator doors slide open on Tony’s private lab floor, allowing Bruce to hear the flood of too loud music and Tony muttering to himself. Bruce still doesn’t know Tony well, but he knows him enough to glean that whatever he and Bucky had been doing before didn’t end well.

“I’m guessing purple and orange was not Bucky’s color?” Bruce shouts over the music, Tony looks up to him. He has three empty cups of coffee on the work bench next to him and his hair is in a disarray from him constantly running his fingers through it.

“Huh?” he says. Jarvis kindly turns the music down. “Orange and purple what?”

“Never mind,” Bruce dismisses with a shake of his head. “What happened? You were supposed to be on ‘keep Bucky awake for longer than three hours’ duty,” he asks, gathering up Tony’s coffee cups and depositing them in one of the oil stained sinks.

“I got six hours,” Tony defends, turning back to his work. His mouth thins into a thin line that betrays his distress.

Bruce doesn’t say anything, but eyes Tony warily.

Tony makes a frustrated noise. “What, Bruce?” he says calmly, but the irritation in his voice is clear. “He didn’t want to design anymore and went up to his room. I’m not his babysitter, not like I could stop him.”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce hazards.

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, that deceptively flippant tone in his voice, clearly communicating that he wants a change of subject.

“You’re being manic. What’d Bucky say?” Bruce says, for once pressing the issue. This is important.

“Told me I shouldn’t have thawed him out,” Tony says flatly, making a large motion with his hands, so that something on the holoscreen changes.

Bruce bites his lip, settling down on the bench across from Tony. He can see the reverse of what Tony is working on, some kind of paneled gauntlet, obviously designed for finer articulation that his other suits. “What did you say?” he asks casually, leaning comfortably against the table, chin in his hand.

“Told him it was rude,” Tony says bluntly. “Got existential on me… I don’t do existential.” He peers at Bruce from behind the holoscreen “I’m fixing it now, though.” He points to the plans on the screen.

“That’s for Bucky?” Bruce asks. He pulls a copy of Tony’s screen over to himself, watching the genius work on the plans. Sure enough, it’s a left arm, fully articulated fingers, rotatable wrist, almost an exact imitation of the workings of a real human arm, built all the way up to the shoulder. “A new arm?”

“Made myself a heart,” Tony says, tapping on his chest, over the reactor. “Why can’t I make him a new arm?”

Bruce swallows, unsure if this is the way to go about it, and how to tell Tony so. “Are you sure…? That’s what he wants, I mean?” he asks carefully, watching Tony run tests on the holographic workings.

“He kept saying he couldn’t go help Cap in the field earlier… Now he's saying he should be dead. He's making it sound like protecting Cap's all he’s good for,” Tony visibly grimaces, chewing his lip. “Which is bullshit. I know it’s bullshit, but how am I supposed to tell him that when…” he trails off with a soft curse, reaching for a coffee cup that’s no longer there.

Bruce nods in understanding. Well, that certainly explains Bucky’s attitude lately. “Have you tried getting him involved in more projects?” Bruce asks.

“What do you think I was doing? He’s smart, Bruce. Really smart, not just for someone who hasn’t gone to college.” Tony curses as he runs a diagnostic that fails and the entire screen flashes red for a few seconds, highlighting all the spots where the mechanics might fail. “Just… smart… Had him helping me with Cap’s suit… thought that’d help him, you know? He isn't such a bad artist either.”

“If he can’t watch Steve’s back in person, he can build him gear to keep him safe,” Bruce affirms. He sees that reasoning in Tony, in the way he secures his tower to create a safe workplace for Pepper. He can’t be there 24/7, but he can make sure people are safe with his tech. “You… have to think about where Bucky comes from,” he says softly. “Bucky is a soldier. He thinks about how to protect someone physically… with himself. From what I’ve heard from Steve, that’s what he’s been doing his whole life,” Bruce says thoughtfully. “You need to teach him the… new way… to protect people.”

“You suggesting I show him the tracker I have stuck to Steve?” Tony asks, tilting his head at Bruce.

“Tracker?” Bruce asks, trying to keep the dismay out of his voice.

“Nothing serious… no… big brother type stuff. Just measures vitals and gives me his location when I ask for it. I need to know where Shield’s sending him… and I figured… it’d be nice to know he’s alive too.” The sentence is flippant, but it betrays Tony’s own worries for Steve.

Bruce sighs. “Uh… no… I don’t think showing him that will help…” he says quietly. “…Show him the suit,” Bruce continues after some thought.  “How it keeps you safe. Back… back in his day, they didn’t have much in the way of bullet proofing. Show him how far we’ve come. That should help, at least with his worry over Steve. Then get him involved again with designing Cap’s suit. Just… let him know that what he’s doing is going to make a difference.”

Tony’s eyes widen at him, and a small smile works its way onto his face. “Didn’t know you were a psychologist, Brucey!” he says, sounding impressed.

Bruce smiles meekly, scratching the back of his head. “Well… when you’re trying to find ways to keep a big green monster inside and it relies on your mental health and emotional control… you learn a few things,” he says.

Tony claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll try it,” he says, this time softer and more serious. “Don’t know what we’d do witho—“

“Sirs, I feel the need to inform you that Sergeant Barnes is in considerable emotional distress,” Jarvis cuts in loudly, the music going completely silent.

“Damn, another nightmare?” Bruce asks, already standing. Jarvis practically barks an affirmative and urges them to hurry to Bucky’s side.

Tony beats Bruce to the elevator.

Making it to his knees a second time was nearly impossible. Bucky shook violently, pants and boots soaked through with cold and salty water, ice floating around him. Steve was nearly submerged and Bucky gave a desperate cry at the discovery. He wrapped shaking, numb fingers around Steve’s suspender strap again, giving a great heave and only managing to pull him a few inches. He didn't give in, tugging frantically.

“No, no, no!” he chanted with each pull. “Come on, God, please! I’m not going to watch you drown!” He could hear the ocean pressing in on them from all sides, even if he pulled Steve out of the water, they were going to drown anyway. Still, Bucky persisted. Something in the background finally gave way with a great shriek of wrenching metal as the whole structure emitted a groan and Bucky got sprayed in the back with a powerful jet of sea water. Already shaky on his knees, it sent him down easily and he couldn't get back up as more and more water poured in from the new hole.

Instead of trying to get to his knees again he allowed the water to push him into Steve, sobbing as he clutched at the blonde. “Please, Steve!” he cried helplessly, wrapping himself around the other, as if that would protect him from the torrent. Inevitably though, they were pushed back under the console, all progress lost. Bucky continued to try to revive Steve, going so far as to seal his mouth over the blonde’s and breath air into his barely functional lungs. “Steve!” he screamed, pulling away as another wave crashed into his back and he choked on water that got into his mouth.

He couldn't scream anymore, the water quickly submerging them both, pushing Bucky fully into Steve’s embrace, cruelly kind. Bucky gave up the fight then, curling into Steve, as the water manipulated the blonde’s slack limbs into wrapping around him once again. Steve was drowning and Bucky couldn't do a damn thing about it because he was so weak. He was failing Steve. The salt water burned his eyes as he forced them open, breath still held in a futile attempt to stay alive. He found Steve’s eyes open too, watching him with a mix of betrayal, asking him why Bucky couldn’t save him, why he wasn’t carrying Steve out like he had done for Bucky out of Zola’s labs.

Steve’s hand fisted his collar, and he was speaking suddenly, words clear, even underwater. “Why are you so weak, Bucky?” he asked mournfully. “I needed you to be strong… just this once and you couldn’t even do that.”

“N-no!” Bucky gasped, and then choked as water filled his lungs.

“You’ve never helped me!” Steve accused, grabbing Bucky’s collar. “You’ve always wanted me weak! Like you! And now that I’m not you can’t stand it anymore, can you? Now you gotta kill me!”

Bucky shook his head desperately, the water around them began to freeze, hardening and turning white.

“You have to take me down with you! I could have swum out of here myself if I didn’t need to protect you!” Steve yelled, face an angry mask. Another lurch from the plane forced Steve to let him go and impossibly, Bucky floated away from him. Steve reached for him, yelling angrily, even as the water around him grew stiff, freezing his face in a roar, eyes burning with anger even as the life eked out of them.

Bucky’s head broke the water, and he used his first lung full of air to yell Steve’s name.

“Sergeant Barnes! Please wake up! Wake up, Sergeant Barnes!”

Bucky lets out another anguished yell, and sucks in another great lung full of air. He is soaked and cold, but he is out and he left Steve behind, how could he do that? He could have pulled Steve up with him.

However, when his eyes pop open, all he sees is the guest bedroom. He is on Steve’s side of the bed, blankets twisted around his legs and pillows all over the floor. The door slams open and he has a few seconds to look at both Tony and Bruce’s panicked faces before the nausea hits him.

He launches himself off the bed and to the bathroom, trailing blankets behind him. He barely makes it to the toilet in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a nightmare sequence featuring enclosed spaces, near drowning, severe emotional duress and a mention of vomiting afterwards. Again, nothing graphic, and the nightmare is more on the unrealistic side, but just to be safe.
> 
> Choo choo, all aboard the train to angstville. Bucky probably won't be falling off of this one.


	12. Extra Dry, Extra Olives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew minus Steve deal with the aftermath of Bucky's nightmare and a probable solution is reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, friends. I was voluntold to go do something that landed me in a place with no internet for a week and this chapter decided to be uncooperative. I have re-written various parts of this chapter no less than three times and I'm still not entirely happy with it, honestly. I hope you all enjoy it regardless, though!
> 
> at least it provides some important relationship building moments.
> 
> Title is from the first Iron Man soundtrack.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and feedback! Don't forget to leave me more!

Bruce and Tony make it into the bathroom in time to hear Bucky start heaving. He’s on his knees in front of the toilet at least. Tony’s expression darkens, and Bruce makes to kneel on the floor to help Bucky out. To his surprise, Tony beats him to it, rubbing Bucky’s back softly as his stomach rebels from whatever nightmare he just had.

When he is done, Bucky, pale and sweaty, leans up and Tony flushes the toilet. Jarvis is nice enough to switch the fans on, though neither Tony nor Bruce are new to vomit. Not with what Bruce used to do before the Avengers and Tony’s numberless alcoholic benders.

“Hey, Bucky, you done?” Tony asks as Bruce wets a washrag and hands it to Bucky. Bucky takes it with shaking fingers and wipes his hands and face. Tony continues to talk softly in the background, something about nightmares and how they get the best of folks, Bruce seriously doubts Bucky is listening.

Bucky, for the most part, looks scared, but distant, eyes slightly unfocused and wide, chest still heaving as he catches his breath from all the shouting. His hair is plastered to his skull with sweat and his clothing is rumpled and damp. He hasn’t said a word yet, but his eyes do eventually focus on Tony sitting next to him. The washcloth hits the floor with a wet slap and Bucky nearly smothers Tony in a fierce hug.

Tony tenses, his babble ceasing, but he immediately wraps his arms around the other man. Bucky’s one hand is tangled in the fabric of Tony’s shirt, and he is pressing his face hard into the crook of Tony’s neck and shoulder. After a few moments, his shoulders begin to shake softly in silent sobs and Tony looks up to Bruce helplessly.

Bruce settles onto the floor then too, wishing that Steve were there. He would know better than any of them how to handle Bucky while he is like this and his presence may have prevented this in the first place. Neither of them had nightmares while the other was close by.

Tony rubs clumsily at Bucky’s shoulders as he shakes and cries, but keeps his eyes on Bruce, silently begging for help. Bruce mouths ‘let him cry,’ silently, and Tony frowns before turning back to Bucky and rubbing more firmly down his back, back up again and against the nape of his neck before repeating.

It’s only a few minutes before Bucky stops crying, and a few more before he stops shaking and his grip on Tony’s shirt loosens, but it feels like an hour or more that they have been sitting on the hard tile floor of the guest bathroom. Bucky sits up from where he was slumped with his arms around Tony and rubs at his eyes that are now puffy and swollen.

“Wanna tell me about what that was?” Tony asks. It’s soft and somewhat unsure. It is obvious that this is untouched territory for Tony. Not many have turned to him for comfort.

Bucky looks at him and swallows thickly, looking shamefaced. “Sorry,” he mutters, turning his eyes away.

“For what?” Tony asks. Whether he is actually confused or just playing dumb, Bruce cannot tell. “For having a nightmare? What’d I say? It gets the best of us.”

“For crying on you,” Bucky clarifies, finding enough energy in himself to give Tony a flat, unhappy stare.

Tony pats the wet spot on his shoulder distractedly. “Oh, that. Don’t need to apologize for that,” he says dismissively. “Had worse, dealt worse,” he continues. Bucky eyes him warily and scoots away from him, Tony doesn’t follow, allowing the other to put as much distance between them as he wants. Bucky scoots himself against the glass of the shower and stops, leaning against it and breathing deeply. “Wasn’t joking about having dealt worse,” Tony continues conversationally once Bucky is settled, plopping into a more comfortable position on the floor. “I threw up on Rhodey…” he trails off. “I’ve thrown up on Rhodey more times than I can count. Got really drunk and cried on a complete stranger once… then I threw up on them too. That was before I had the liquor tolerance I do now. Don’t throw up on people much anymore, now I just get drunk and forget to call them for a month and a half…” Tony continues rambling as Bucky watches, guarded, but relaxing more and more as the stream of words washes over him.

Bruce stands quietly and leaves the room, grabbing the syringe from atop the note he left on the nightstand. ‘Don’t forget to take your meds,’ he sees written in his own familiar, messy handwriting, and he shakes his head, grabbing the note and crumpling it.

“… Pretty sure Pepper would have killed me if Steve hadn’t had been there,” Tony is saying as Bruce comes back in. “She stopped in to the medical bay ‘cause Jarvis said it was occupied –didn’t say by who--and there you were, had no idea who you were. Probably thought you were some guy I injured and nabbed off the side of the road for recovery. She almost gave me an earful, but then Steve was there and she was star struck.”

Bucky is smiling softly now, listening to Tony talk, chuckling at the appropriate times. There is a little more color in his face and his hair is starting to dry, though the strands are weighed down and greasy now, curling messily around his ears. He looks up when Bruce walks into the room, eyes landing on the auto-injector in his hand and reaching for it. Tony looks up and back too. He looks a little more strained than his voice would suggest and he smiles when he sees Bruce.

“Bruce! I hadn’t noticed you left! Time for Bucky’s meds?” he asks, trying desperately to keep the silence from eating the space again.

“It was time for his meds before his nap, but I didn’t want to wake him,” Bruce says, handing the vial off to Bucky. Bucky uncaps the syringe with his teeth and injects himself in the thigh. It won’t be as effective as if he injected directly into a vein, but with only one arm, Bruce figures it’s the best he can do.

“Think I’ll try to stay on schedule with those,” Bucky says, airy and somewhat weak. “Forget how much this hurts without it,” he admits, motioning to his stump. After a moment, he lets out a hard sigh and slumps against the shower. “Sorry… Sorry about that. Think the pain makes the nightmares worse,” he mutters softly. "Makes me act... different." He eyes the wet patch on Tony's shirt pointedly.

Tony’s face sinks at that. “What’d I say about apologizing?” he asks, though his voice is a lot softer.

“Was my stupid that caused the nightmare, right?” Bucky asks, tilting his head in challenge.

Tony frowns and crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything. Bucky struggles up to his feet, leaning against the wall. “I’m… I’m kinda done sleeping anyway,” he says, still shaking, dark circles stark like bruises under his eyes. “Going to go watch a movie,” he says carefully.

“Why don’t you come back down to the lab with me?” Tony cuts in, standing swiftly and following Bucky as he shakily walks towards the door.

Bucky just shakes his head, a wry smile sliding onto his features.  “That didn’t work out so great last time,” he says quietly, shooting Tony a look that Bruce can’t quite dissect.

Tony goes quiet and allows Bucky to leave. Bucky limps past Bruce and calls for Dummy at the bathroom door, and the robot immediately comes rolling in through the open bedroom door, tucking himself neatly under Bucky’s arm. Bruce turns to watch him walk out the door and into the living room area of Steve’s floor before turning back to Tony.

“Did something else happen in that lab that you didn’t tell me?” Bruce asks, trying to keep the scolding tone out of his voice.

“No!” Tony deflects, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders. “It was all fun and games until Bucky got existential,” he says, bitter.

Bruce spares a look in Bucky’s general direction again; the sounds of the opening credits to a movie are already floating into the bedroom via the door. “Letting Steve leave was a bad idea,” he says needlessly.

“You think?” Tony snaps, then frowns. “I have a good idea, though,” he continues, tapping his chin with his fingers. “Should make him feel better. Do you know anything about neurons… and nerve connections?” he asks.

Bruce mimics his frown, brows furrowing. “Tony, you can’t surgically remove his problems,” he says. Tony gives him a flat, and frankly, disappointed look.

“Are you serious? If I wanted to do that I’d offer him some of that liquor Thor left in the cabinet. Pretty sure that could make even him forget his own name,” Tony says, sounding surprisingly offended. “No, It’s,” he lowers his voice. “It’s for the arm. I’m thinking some kind of artificial nerve net. The connections for his arm are all there, just have to figure out the connections…” He begins muttering out his theory and Bruce listens intently, leaning up against the wall.

“Before you get too invested in this, maybe you should ask him,” Bruce cuts in through Tony muttering about electrical impulses. “If this is what he wants.”

"You said that," Tony says, frowning at Bruce. "Why wouldn't it be? It'd solve his problems. He'd be functioning again... more than... if the arm works the way I want it to."

“You might make him feel bad,” Bruce says softly. “Just… giving him something like that. He isn’t a machine. You have to ask him before you… upgrade him.”

Tony quiets while he thinks about it, his own hand coming up to tap the place where his arch reactor sinks into his chest. “Let me get a theoretical prototype first,” he says finally, after a few moments.

“He’s not a board of directors, Tony,” Bruce says, but Tony puts up a hand to silence him.

“And this is his _arm_ we’re talking about, right? It’s going to be attached to him, gotta show him what I’m working with,” Tony says reasonably. “You want him to decide. I want him to make an informed decision.”

Bruce sighs, but nods. “Okay, Tony. But you need to tell him before you’ve got a physical thing. And you should tell Steve too, I doubt he’ll take coming home to find his best friend has a new arm well.”

“Yeah. Show him that along with the new suit,” Tony agrees. He makes his way past Bruce and out into the bedroom. Bruce follows. “Well, I was hoping for company in my lab,” he says this exaggeratedly loud. “But I guess I’ll get back to work now.” With that announcement, he heads off to the elevators, right past Bucky who watches him go with a quiet goodbye.

After Tony disappears, Bruce places a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?” he asks gently.

“You have work to do too,” Bucky says, not unkindly. “And I… I’d like to be alone,” he adds. “Thanks.”

Bruce shrugs and gives Bucky a soft smile. “If you change your mind… I’m not as busy as Tony says I am,” he says. He respects Bucky’s request and heads to the elevators and to his lab. He can understand why Bucky wants to be left alone, especially if he hasn’t shown such strong emotions around anyone before. Tony seems to be the same way. When things are too much, he would rather lock himself away than accept help from someone.

After Bruce leaves, Bucky settles more fully into the couch. He can feel the lump in his throat, the hard ache of his heart and the underlying shame of it all. He had broken down just because of a dream. Something that was unrealistic upon reflection. Even if he had really woken up while the plane was sinking, Steve certainly hadn’t. And Steve wouldn’t say those things to him. At least not to his face.

He swallowed as he felt tears well up in his eyes again. He trained his eyes on the television, watching the old film play. _Fantasia_ , a film neither he nor Steve had a chance to go see before they were shipped off and into the future. It was a shame too, Steve would have liked it. It was all bright colors, movement and sounds. He supposed Steve would appreciate it more now, though.

He scrubs furiously at his eyes as the picture blurs. They are alive. They are alive and that is all that matters, he tells himself determinedly. It doesn't matter that everyone they know is dead or that everyone, but the Avengers think Bucky is still in a coma, or that directly after surviving one deadly mission, Steve is off on another, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from Bucky.

He shakes his head. That isn’t why Steve left. He is doing reconnaissance for Tony, figuring out what SHIELD wants with them. It isn’t fair of Bucky to push his own insecurities on Steve, to spin it so that he is a victim being left behind instead of simply being someone who could no longer go out into the field.

He runs one last hand over his eyes before he settles back into the couch. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he calms down enough to lose himself in the mindlessness of watching television.

After Bucky has finished _Fantasia_ , had a bottle of water and some inexplicably thick smoothie forced on him by Dummy and has watched half-way through an old black and white mobster film, laughing occasionally at their thick, Brooklyn drawls, the elevator doors open. He looks up from the screen, blinking slightly at the now dark room to see Tony entering. The lights automatically brighten as he steps onto Steve’s carpet.

Tony looks dressed for bed. He has a pair of dark sweatpants on, bare feet poking out from underneath the hems and a loose t-shirt that is way too stretched around the neckline. The whole outfit makes him look much smaller than he is. He has a mug, probably of coffee, in one hand and a tablet in the other, the screen still bright with text.

He blinks at Bucky, surprised. “What are you still doing up?” he asks. “It’s three in the morning.”

“What are you doing up here?” Bucky asks in return, though his tone is more amused.

“I… Bruce thought it would be good if you had someone up here in case you had another nightmare, since you’ve been sharing a bed with Steve the past week,” Tony says. “Didn’t think you’d still be awake though, with how tired you’ve been.”

“Not interested in having anymore nightmares,” Bucky says flatly, curling back into the couch cushions as Tony makes his way around and finds a spot in one of the reclining chairs. “What about you? What are you doing up? Can’t be just to babysit me.”

Tony looks down at the tablet, tapping the side lightly with the pads of his fingers. “Can’t sleep either,” Tony says on a breath and almost too quiet for Bucky to hear. “Not the only one with nightmares, Barnes.”

Bucky let out a breath and looked at his feet, the movie still playing in the background, but otherwise forgotten. “You seem to have experience,” Bucky begins, casting a side-long glance at Tony. “What do you do for them?”

Tony shrugs lightly, letting a breath through his nose. “Don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet. I just try to stay awake. Can't dream if you don't sleep.”

“How’s that been working?” Bucky asks, shooting a pointed look at the coffee in Tony’s hand. The mug is slightly shaking in his grasp, and now the dark circles underneath Tony’s eyes make more sense.

“Honestly?" Tony looks up at Bucky, calculating. He sighs. "Not great. You seem to do okay when you have your super soldier teddy bear, but I don’t have one of those.” He smiles sardonically and turns his attention back to the tablet. “Best thing I can do is sleep as little as possible. Not hard. I’m a very busy man, got a lot to do.”

Bucky chews his lip, eyes still trained on Tony, who is now navigating his tablet with shaky, over-caffeinated fingers. “We could…” he starts, but stops when Tony’s eyes snap up to regard him. He takes a breath and tries again. “I’m technically a super soldier,” Bucky says with a wobbly smirk. “We could see if…” he trails off, unsure how to phrase it. He has known Tony for all of a week, and although he and Steve were sharing beds within a few days of when they met, they were also eight years old.

“You asking me to sleep with you, Bucky?” Tony asks, voice gaining a flirtatious edge. His previously wry expression almost melts into an easy grin.

If it’s an attempt to get Bucky to blush or renege, it doesn’t work. It might have, if it were not obviously Tony's attempt at grasping desperately for a change of subject. He doesn't want to talk about his nightmares, and Bucky can't blame him. Besides that, Bucky had to come to terms with himself fairly early on with someone who looked like Steve in his life, he wasn't bashful about it. “And if I am?” he asks in challenge.

“Then I’d take you up on that offer,” Tony says easily. Bucky wonders, with a slight twist of anticipation in his chest, what meaning of the phrase Tony is referring to. He seems less flirtatious as he says it and more serious. “Don’t know if it’ll work unless we try.”

Bucky is silently relieved and disappointed. “I remember some of science class, can’t discredit something unless you try it out first.”

“Yup,” Tony says, as if convincing himself of the fact as well. “Let me finish my coffee and we’ll… we’ll get right to… that.” Bucky can’t help, but smile slightly at Tony’s suddenly nervous tone.

He runs a hand through his hair and wrinkles his nose at the greasy feel of the strands. “I should take a shower,” he says, standing and summoning Dummy. Tony looks up at him and quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest, which cinches the fact that Bucky stinks. “I’ll be back,” he says needlessly, as Dummy helps him walk to the guest bedroom.

Once the door is shut behind him, and he is digging through his collection of Steve and Tony’s hand-me-downs, as well as his own small collection of clothing for something to sleep in, he allows himself to let out the breath that’s been building in his chest. Was Tony fucking with him, or was he really implying what Bucky thought he was implying? If Bucky had asked for something decidedly less innocent, something that he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about, would Tony have agreed to that too?

The internet had just called Tony a playboy, not much was said about his preferences. Bucky knew it was legal now, being who he was. He hadn’t done a ton of research, but he knew, at the very least, he wouldn’t go to jail for it. And although nothing was said about Tony’s preferences on the internet, it didn’t reflect what he really liked. As Bruce had said, not everything he reads on the internet is true.

He clasps a hand over his chest, like a swooning dame, and looks at the ceiling. “Jarvis?” he asks, voice surprisingly strong.

“Yes, Sergeant? Can I help you?” the AI replies smoothly.

Bucky takes another breath and lets it out once he is in the shower, taking the washcloth folded neatly on the shower bench to spread soap over his skin as he spoke. “Has… Has Tony ever… ever made time with or… um… _dated_ a man?”

“I am not at liberty to reveal that information,” Jarvis replies succinctly and Bucky deflates in defeat. So the easy way to find out wouldn’t work. “I am sure if you were to ask Sir, then he would gladly tell you.” Bucky is sure he is imagining the underlying something in the AI’s words.

“Don’t think it works like that, Jarvis,” he says, smiling wryly.

“If you say so, Sergeant,” Jarvis says. That tone is still in his voice, the one that implies he means something more.

Bucky just laughs and asks Jarvis to shut the shower off as he towels off. He dressed quickly and spares a moment to try and tame his hair in the foggy mirror. He really needs a haircut, the strands are starting to curl around his ears and reach into the collar of his shirt.

When he opens the door, Tony is waiting for him on the bed, moving his fingers smoothly over the tablet. Bucky can’t help the flush that washes over him.

“This is starting to feel more and more like something else,” Bucky comments as he walks into the room.

“What? I finished my coffee, and I wasn’t about to let a senior citizen with bad feet walk all the way out to get me,” Tony says flippantly.

Bucky chuckles, flopping down on his side of the bed heavily. “Senior citizen, huh?” he asks, looking at Tony over his shoulder.

“Yup. You’re old enough to get discounts on tickets to Disneyland,” Tony says. He follows Bucky’s lead and crawls onto the other side of the bed, pulling the covers down and making himself comfortable.

“Disney... Land…?” Bucky asks, relaxing into the pillows.

Tony looks incredibly amused. “Yes. Disneyland, there’s a Disneyworld too. They’re like… amusement parks… and resorts,” he says, clearly trying to describe it in a way that won’t confuse Bucky. “Like… like the fair... or Coney Island, actually. They have rides and games, but also rooms for people to stay, all themed like Disney movies.”

Bucky just stares at him. This time he is sure Tony is messing with him. “Why would you go to a an amusement park themed after Disney movies?” he asks, instead of asking for proof.

“Why not?” Tony reasons. “I’ll show you sometime. Rent out one of their resorts, take a week, it’ll be fun.”

“Only if you're paying,” Bucky says, smiling softly. Tony finishes whatever he was doing on his tablet and sets it on the floor next to the side of the bed, sinking down into the pillows a little fuller. He looks sleepy now, rather than just dead tired, eyes going half-lidded as the lights dim.

“So what are the rules here? If I spoon you in my sleep am I going to wake up with a black eye?” Tony asks, eyeing Bucky slightly warily.

“Spoon…?” Bucky says, coming up blank with that vocabulary. He waves Tony off when he goes to explain, Bucky can figure out what it means by the context. “Can’t… can’t be anymore touchy than Steve. He practically sleeps on top of me,” he says. “I ain’t gonna punch you. Wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t handle a little bit of snuggling.”

Tony gives him another wary look, but relaxes.

It goes quiet after that exchange; the only sound in the room is their collective breathing. Bucky feels tense, laying ram-rod straight in the bed, hand resting on his stomach. Upon reflection, allowing Tony into his bed might have just served to keep the both of them up even more effectively, rather than lolling them both to sleep. They have spent a lot of time together, but they are not nearly as close as Bucky and Steve. It all feels very forced.

Or rather it does, until Bucky hears a snuffled snore from Tony’s side of the bed. Tony has shifted slightly, now facing Bucky instead of the ceiling and has his face buried in the pillows that probably smell like a mixture of Steve and Bucky. He is obviously out like a light.

Bucky follows suit and rolls over towards him, feeling warmth bloom in his chest at how quickly Tony went to sleep. Obviously Tony isn’t uncomfortable with Bucky, despite his problems. That thought follows Bucky down into sleep, listening to Tony breathe like he does with Steve. It sounds familiar, but clearly different than Steve and Bucky finds that he could get used to listening to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang is so strange. Feel free to correct me if 'spooning' was a thing between 1920 and the early 1940s.
> 
> I was hoping to have another playlist ready for you guys, but I'm really picky about my music. So instead, here's my collection of [Noh Varr in short shorts](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/search/he+wears+short+shorts)


	13. Fireman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is persuasive and Steve is back in action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry for such a long break between chapters again. I was hoping to make a lot of headway on this story over the summer and it just didn't happen :/ 
> 
> Warnings for some allusions to torture and violence typical to Marvel in this chapter.
> 
> Chapter title is from the first Iron Man movie... really a little more applicable to Steve's part in the chapter and less Bucky and Tony.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your feedback and please keep it coming!

Bucky woke up three times during the night. The first time, because Tony had made a great effort of stealing all of the pillows, including the ones Bucky was laying on, in his sleep. The second, because Tony decided to give all of the pillows back by shoving them into Bucky’s face, again, entirely in his sleep. And one final time because he was working out what sounded like some kind of complicated math problem, aloud and in his sleep. There were no nightmares, for either Tony or Bucky. Tony did not accidentally ‘spoon,’ Bucky in his sleep, something that Bucky is not disappointed about, no matter how much he feels like he could do without the impromptu pillow barrier between them. Overall, Bucky feels their experiment was successful, even if the bed suffered for it, when he wakes up to Tony shuffling out of bed at five in the morning.

Bucky grunts and blinks his eyes open, Tony freezing with his back to Bucky. “You trying to sneak away?” he asks groggily, reaching forward and capturing the hem of Tony’s shirt with his fingers.

“Gotta go start work,” Tony deflects easily, but doesn’t move. “You should come down… when you get up.”

“How about you get your ass back in bed and we can go down once the sun’s up?” Bucky replies grumpily. “Didn’t have sex, Tony. Don’t need to run off, so it don’t mean anything. Ain’t gonna get clingy.” What can he say? Mornings make him blunt.

Tony stares at him for a few moments and then laughs. “No, I guess we didn’t. Shame.” He mutters ‘shame’ under his breath like Bucky wouldn’t be able to hear. He does hear, and it makes his stomach do a flip. He hasn’t been this nervous around someone since he was fourteen, asking his first gal out on a date. “It’s not like that, Bucky. I really have work I have to get back to.”

“You get up, I have to get up,” Bucky almost whines. “Come on, Tony. You can’t tell me you couldn’t use a few more hours.”

Tony stares at him calculatingly. “Fine,” he says shortly, before flopping back into bed, making a show of pulling the covers over himself before rolling over until he is practically on top of Bucky, enveloping him in a hug. “Still want a few more hours?”

“Yup,” Bucky replies stubbornly, closing his eyes and turning his face into the pillows. Tony huffs.

“Don’t tell me you thought that was going to work,” Bucky says after a few minutes of feigned dozing. “Told you I didn’t mind cuddling.”

“Why can’t you just act like Rhodey and push me off?” Tony complains, but doesn’t extract himself from Bucky, instead laying his head on Bucky’s chest.

“'Cause I want to sleep,” Bucky says. “Now shut up, so I can.”

Tony huffs, but relaxes into him at that point, shifting so he is putting less weight on Bucky’s left side and he has more mattress under him. “Thought you said you weren’t going to get clingy,” he mutters.

Bucky shushes him languidly, now trying to go back to sleep for real. Tony lets out another frustrated breath, thumping Bucky’s chest with his head, but soon he is breathing evenly and is evidently asleep again. Bucky follows soon after.

They wake at eight, the sun streaming through the blinds that Jarvis opened. Tony practically drags Bucky out of bed for breakfast. As much as Bucky enjoys sleeping, they can’t sleep all day and after a few moments of over-dramatic reluctance, Bucky rolls out of bed and follows Tony, scratching at his impressive bedhead.

“So what do you have planned for today?” Bucky asks over a breakfast of cereal. “Since you had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to do it.”

“I want to get Steve’s suit finished, so I can send it down to fabrication,” Tony replies. He pauses to spoon several mouthfuls of cereal into his mouth at once, chews and then swallows. “I also want to show you something and I was going to put it together today.”

“Something to show me?” Bucky prompts.

“A demonstration… on how the suit works. And maybe how some of the materials in Steve’s uniform will work. I have a few samples of the bullet proof material from when I was synthesizing it,” Tony says casually. Bucky goes to speak, but is interrupted by Tony holding a finger up before he picks the bowl up and chugs the milk left in it. “I… I want to show you what I do,” he says after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t care if you think you can’t contribute. I just want to show you.”

“Okay…” Bucky says, letting his skepticism show in his voice.

“Not going to miss a chance to brag either,” Tony adds with a grin.

This prompts a mirrored smile from Bucky. “That sounds more like you,” he says, just as Bruce enters the floor via the elevator.

“Good morning,” Bruce greets Bucky before turning to Tony. “You’re up late,” he says, but he sounds more relieved than anything.

“What can I say? Bucky is persuasive,” Tony says. Bucky smirks triumphantly. “And lazy,” Tony adds, eyeing Bucky unabashedly.

Bucky just shrugs. “I like my sleep,” he says simply.

Bruce just snorts at them, setting the first-aid kit on the breakfast bar. “I need to change your bandages again. If you’re still healing at the rate you have been, we’ll probably be able to lighten up on the wrapping for your feet.” He pulls a chair over for Bucky’s feet and Bucky obediently sets them on it. Tony stands up to put their bowls in the sink, but surprisingly sits back down at the breakfast bar afterwards, instead of heading downstairs.

Bruce is correct and Bucky just needs a few Band-Aids and taped pieces of gauze on his feet. “I still don’t think you should walk unassisted. Since it’s both your feet, not just one, but they’re healing up nicely,” he says, giving Bucky a warm smile. Bucky wonders why Bruce didn’t become a medical doctor, because he would be damn good at it. Bruce digs around in his pocket for a few more auto-injectors and hands them to him to use as he needs them. “Don’t forget to use those,” he warns, giving Bucky a stern look.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Bucky says, accepting them and setting them on the counter. His sleep pants don’t have pockets, but they are fuzzy and have Steve’s shield plastered all over them. He tries not to enjoy them as much as he does.

Bruce turns to leave, but Tony speaks before he can make it more than a few steps. “We’ll be heading down to the lab soon,” he begins casually. “We probably wouldn’t mind the company.”

Bruce smiles kindly at the offer, but shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, Tony, but I was planning on looking into that thing you talked to me about yesterday and I need one of the bio labs,” he says.

Bucky senses a careful censorship in his word choice, but Tony practically buzzes with excitement. “Let me know when you make any progress on it,” he practically demands. “I’ll have Jarvis send the project file, so you can see what we’re working with.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Bruce says, before exiting to the elevator again, first aid kit tucked under his arm.

Tony turns to Bucky once the elevator doors close. “So you want to head down now?” he asks, watching Bucky drink the last of his coffee.

“You don’t want to get decent first?” Bucky asks with a smirk and a quirked brow.

“You and your decency,” Tony mutters, waving him off. “We’re just heading down to the lab. Jarvis won’t tell anyone about your bedhead.”

Bucky sighs and runs his hand through his hair self-consciously. “More worried about you telling people about my fuzzy Cap pants,” he says, eyeing Tony.

“Don’t tell Cap, but… I have a pair like that,” Tony says conspiratorially and Bucky nearly falls over laughing.

“Should’ve worn them. We would’ve matched,” Bucky comments, finishing his coffee and walking carefully to the sink.

“That’s tacky,” Tony says with a wrinkled nose, and tucks himself under Bucky’s arm, pressing into his side. “Here, I’ll be your crutch today. Pretty sure everyone’s down in the lab anyway,” he adds before they walk to the elevator.

Steve’s morning was not going nearly as smooth. Earlier that morning he and Natasha had dropped from one of the Quinjets into a part of Cambodia heavy with deep green trees, ferns and vines, a few miles out from their informant. They had hiked in the thick and humid early morning warmth that was promising to become a hot and muggy day. Natasha was virtually silent, walking a few feet ahead of him on a nearly indiscernible path.

They reach the location of their informant just as the sun peaks at its highest point in the sky, directly over them. Natasha surveys the clearing critically, there is a suggestion of some long forgotten temple, long crumbled and taken over by foliage and tree roots. Without warning, she tackles him behind the thick trunk of a tree just in time for it to get chewed up by bullets and Steve watches as all manner of birds erupt from the forest’s canopy at the sharp report of the gun.

From there they are locked in combat, the sun beating on their backs as Steve chucks his shield and Natasha systematically shoots black clad agents that flood out of the forest around them. Dust is kicked up to the left of Steve as a path of bullets rips through it, following Natasha as she elegantly flips behind a ragged stone. Steve spots a sniper in one of the trees and rolls out of the way of the shot, catching his shield to hide behind it.

Eventually, they reduce the army of agents to a handful. Natasha and Steve are crouched behind one of the old carved stones of the ruin, now chipped up with bullets and Steve can’t help but think it’s a shame.

“I think they knew we were coming,” Natasha says in a playful, but clipped tone between the shots of her gun.

“You think?” Steve says shortly, throwing his shield at the head of one of the more daring agents, peeking out from behind a tree, it hits the man’s head with a satisfying clang, knocking him back into the tree and Steve catches it on his arm. There’s one more shot from Natasha’s gun and their impromptu battlefield falls silent.

“How much you wanna bet we were sold out?” Steve asks, stepping out into the clearing and scanning the area around them for more hostiles.

“No one sells out Shield,” Natasha says, crossing her arms. She doesn’t seem so sure of her own statement.

“They do if they’re offered enough money, I bet,” Steve says testily. Satisfied that they have really taken care of all hostiles, he hooks his shield into its place on his back. “Either way, we aren’t getting the info we wanted. What now?” he asks, watching as Natasha tucks her weapon back into its holster on her side.

“We try to figure out where they came from,” Natasha says simply. “The informant was just going to make things easier. There are ways to find where we’re going other than him.” She walks in the general direction the ambush started in, and goes west from there, Steve huffs and follows.

Steve is seriously starting to doubt Natasha’s sense of direction until they encounter the next group of enemies. There are five of them, a patrol group, probably, and Natasha and Steve take them by surprise. Natasha beats him to dispatching them, taking them down before they can even make a sound. She stands among the bodies of the fallen group and turns to Steve.

“We need to hurry,” she says before breaking into a jog. Steve is quick to follow after her. “They’ll be expected to check in and when they don’t the whole base will know we’re here.”

They run through the thick jungle, avoiding more guards and following badly concealed patrol routes. They finally stumble into the brush surrounding another clearing and another stone temple, this one fending off the flora and fauna much better than the last. The stones are crumbling in places, but there are also wooden braces constructed around them. Stacks of crates and other equipment lay scattered under the supports and around small, compact vehicles, obviously made for navigating the jungle. People bustle in and out, shouting at each other and speaking on communicators. Most of them are toting sizable weapons. None of them are monks.

“I thought Fury said this was a small operation,” Steve whispers, turning to Natasha. Natasha merely smiles.

“It is,” she says, amused. Steve frowns.

They do a lot of maneuvering and finagling before slipping unnoticed into the dark mouth of the temple, sneaking against stone walls in the shadows left behind by inefficient electric lamps. At that point, they split up to tackle different wings of the temple, silently agreeing that they don't need two people to set charges in the major weapon stockpiles.

Steve is in the middle of setting a charge in an expansive and elaborate room filled with stone statues and mosaic walls along with hundreds of boxes of semi-automatics and ammunition, when there is a couple alarmed shouts and the sound of hustled footsteps. A flashlight shines across him, flashing him in the face and he stands. He is greeted by a group of people outside the door, shouting at him and brandishing weapons. He unhooks the shield from his back, thrusting it in front of himself just in time for several rounds of gun fire to ping off the front.

They have apparently been discovered. Bucky was right, he isn’t cut out for recon work.

Steve tucks himself behind the Shield and pushes off his toes, launching directly at the people bottlenecked at the door. They let out a collective shout of surprise as he basically sends them flying across the narrow hallway and into the wall. He launches his shield to the left to take out the line of people waiting there before turning and grabbing the Uzi out of the hands of a squat, burly man and knocking him in the face with it. The man falls back and practically crushes the several smaller individuals behind him.

The shield bounces off the far side of the hallway, taking a new wave of henchmen out on its way back to him and no one else rushes in to take their place from that side. He turns to the men on the other side of him, pulling the same move he had at the door, making way for himself. He turns left and down a blessedly empty hallway and then into a room that holds an old mop and a straw bristled broom.

He presses the com in his ear. “Black Widow, we’ve been found out… again,” he says quietly, peeking out of the doorway to see if he has any pursuers. He doesn’t. "Widow, respond!” he demands. There is no reply. No indication if Natasha has heard him, or if she even still has her com.

Several men run past his hiding place and Steve launches out past them, following as silently as he can, to see if they are heading in Natasha’s direction. He ducks into another small darkened room when they meet up with another group, and they continue on together, this time conducting a more thorough and less frantic search. Steve manages to stay out of their line of sight, but it is much more difficult. They mutter in a language that he doesn’t know to each other, but he catches a mention of Shield, and some variation of ‘Captain America,’ spat in a disgusted tone.

Both he and the men hear the gunshots down the hall at the same time, and Steve takes them out quickly before sprinting after the source of the noise. Down the hall there is more shouting, but it is less angry and more frantic, begging. Steve speeds up his pace, finding the source of the noise to be the door at the end of the hall, straight ahead of him, that leads into the largest portion of the temple. Several more people make it to the door before him and they all go down in succession with clean shots to the head. Steve immediately dives behind one of the stone pillars, pressing back to avoid becoming another body on the floor outside the door.

The frantic shouts aren’t from Natasha; they are from what sounds like a man and in lightly accented English. And the man is whimpering, pleading, begging for his life.

Then another voice cuts over the man’s pleas. “Shut up,” a woman’s voice, Natasha’s, says coldly. Before Steve can move forward to stop her, there’s a resounding shot through the hall, and the thump of a body hitting the floor. There is a pause, and a breath from Natasha and then a muttered “Target neutralized.” Then everything is perfectly still and silent.

 Steve swallows, and fighting his instincts to run in and confront Natasha, he quietly moves farther down the hall, a sizable distance away. Then works himself up, so he is breathing hard. It isn’t difficult; he hasn’t witnessed anything like that since the war, watching Nazi’s executing prisoners they didn’t deem fit before intervening. He hadn’t intervened this time.

He swallows the guilt to deal with later before running at a full sprint down the hall. He nearly barrels over Natasha as she exits the room.

“Natasha!” Steve breaths, trying to push all the concern he had felt previously into his voice. He still felt concern, yes, but not so much for Natasha anymore. “Are you okay? I heard shots,” he asks, closing his  hands around her shoulders and looking for injuries.

She looks up at him, smirks and brushes his hands away. Steve catches the brownish red of blood under her nails, and the suggestion of it in her red hair.“You worried, Rogers?” she asks, teasing.

Steve sighs, and crosses his arms. “You didn’t answer your com,” he says, letting his hostility show.

If she’s surprised, guilty or anything else, it doesn’t show on her face. “Things got heated,” she says simply.

“What happened?” he asks with concern. He goes to walk into the room she just came out of, hoping to casually broach the subject of her executing someone who had clearly surrendered, someone begging for their life.

“Don’t go in there,” she says, placing a firm hand on his chest. “The leader of this place attacked me,” she says. “Didn’t end well for him.”

He didn’t attack her. She is basically immaculate, save for the hints of blood and Steve heard the man's pleas. He aches to say these things. “Guess not,” he agrees cryptically. This time Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him. “I heard shots,” he repeats, to clarify. “We could have taken him as a prisoner. He probably had information,” Steve says instead.

“Was all I could do to kill him, Steve,” Natasha says, sounding offended. She brushes past him and walks down the opposite hall. “Guess we don’t need to detonate those weapons stores anymore,” she says offhandedly. “We should call Shield in for extraction and to round up the survivors,” she continues. “The leader might be dead, but some of his underlings might know something,” she casts a glance back at Steve, as if placating him.

“Fine,” he agrees, following behind Natasha. He wonders how the mission got so out of hand so quickly.

Even with one arm, Tony has to admit that Bucky is a great shot. The Sergeant has one of the gauntlets over his right hand, the repulsor glowing faintly and then flashing as he lets out another shot. Tony dodges it flashily, bending backwards in the air and finishing with a backflip. Bucky laughs and follows up with a shot aimed directly at Tony’s crotch.

“Shit!” Tony shouts, shooting upwards and cracking his head on the concrete ceiling of the sparing room. The helmet leaves a dent where his head was, a spider web of cracks arching out from it.

“Wasn’t expecting that, were you?” Bucky gloats. “Your head okay?”

“Nope, you’ve damaged me irreparably. Who are you? What’s my name again?” Tony says, putting on his best bewildered voice. Bucky chuckles lightly. “Why would you aim for my packaged goods? I need those!”

“You were thrusting them at me, what else was I supposed to do?” Bucky asks. He shoots three more times at Tony, which the genius dodges easily.

“I can think of a few things you could do,” Tony says, thoughtful. Bucky shoots again and Tony dodges it by thrusting his pelvis forward in a long pronounced movement, arching his spine as much as the suit will allow, before following the movement through with another backflip. Bucky shoots again and hits him just above his junk, it knocks him back slightly. “Hey!”

“Aim for where the enemy’s weakest, right?” Bucky asks, smirking easily. “You’re right, that suit can take a lot,” he says thoughtfully, lowering the gauntlet.

“Thank God for that,” Tony says, flipping the face plate up. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have any family jewels left.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Bucky says easily.

They have been at this since after lunch. They had finished Steve’s suit, which sadly did not end up with a star on the ass, but did have some pretty artful hemming designed by Bucky himself that formed a star when Steve stood at attention.

He had already showed Bucky the fabric the uniform had been made of. It held up against bullets and repulsor blasts, even knives at various angles and Bucky had brightened enough to agree to the next demonstration.

Tony taught him how to use the repulsor gauntlets afterwards, and even offered to let him wear the suit, but Bucky had refused. Still, Tony had felt the insatiable need to show Bucky his work, how he protected people, and also to show off a little bit. That was how they ended up in target practice, Bucky purposely missing until Tony dove into the way of one of the shots.

 Tony is about to step out of his suit when Jarvis’s voice rings smoothly through the training room. “Sir, you have a call from Captain Steve Rogers,” he says.

“Answer it!” Bucky demands, sounding simultaneously excited and desperate. He jumps as a Jarvis opens a screen on the far wall, a camera swiveling their way. Steve’s face appears on the screen, and although he is smiling and looks happy to see them, there is also a tenseness about him that makes Tony worried.

“How goes the mission, Cap?” Tony asks, quelling his worry.

Steve swallows and looks behind him where the legs of figures clad in the black and white uniforms of Shield shuffle behind him. He is more than likely sat on the floor of a larger Quinjet. “We’re done,” he says, not sounding even remotely elated about the fact. “At least with the first half.”

“That was quick,” Bucky says a little off camera. Jarvis had smartly moved the camera when it became apparent Steve wasn’t alone. “That was really quick.” Despite not being able to see him, Steve lights up at hearing Bucky’s voice.

“Yeah… well… things got messed up. I can’t say much, but I should be home a little sooner… maybe in a couple of days at most.”

“That’s great!” Tony says, not bothering to hide how ecstatic he is. In the background a figure moves marginally closer to Steve. Steve looks up and at them as they speak muffled words.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not telling him anything secret,” Steve says, sounding annoyed.

“Oh, but I want to hear it,” Tony whines, loud enough that the figure stiffens slightly. “Tell me everything, Cap. All Shield’s dirty secrets… like how they convinced you to wear that suit. That's a fashion disaster and does it provide any protection at all? If you send me your super-secret coordinates, I can do something heinous, like send you a better one.”

The words have the intended effect; the figure makes an exasperated sigh, clearly audible even at their distance away and stalks off. Most agents at Shield are very aware that their independent tech is miles behind everything Tony produces, so pointing out that fact is enough to scare most of them off.

To Tony’s surprise, Steve smiles at him. “Thanks for that,” he says. “I had to practically beg to get to call in the first place. ”Bu—How’s Bucky?”

Bucky makes a nonchalant shrug when Tony looks over to him for an answer. “Oh, you know, same old, same old,” Tony says. “Still in a coma, but he’s surprisingly active. Gave me inspiration for your new suit, you could almost say he designed the thing himself. I’m not joking about that, by the way, you have a new suit now. It’s got more protection packed into it than any of your other ones. There was a lot of room, since I don’t think you'd appreciate me sticking missiles in it.”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Seems like you’ve been keeping busy, then. I’ll have to thank him when he wakes up,” he says, though his eyes are trained on where Bucky is, just off camera.

Behind Steve, another pair or legs approach. “What are you smiling about, Rogers?” a woman’s voice asks. Soon after, Natasha comes into frame, sitting gracefully next to Steve, touching shoulders with him, so that they both can appear on camera.

Where Steve had been acting warm and friendly with Natasha previously, he goes tense and pale. “Just Tony,” he says, voice betraying his strain. “Was telling me how he’s been making me a new suit.”

“Really, Tony? He just got the one he has. Can’t you let him wear it for a while?” She smiles lasciviously at Steve. “I think the dark blue looks good on him. More Captain and less America.”

Steve looks altogether uncomfortable, not returning Natasha’s gaze. Natasha is good, but her face falls just slightly, and confusion replaces it, before she turns back to Tony with the same flirty grin, quirking an eyebrow for argument.

“I am letting him wear it. Also, isn’t he Captain America? He certainly wouldn’t make a very good Captain Agent. Should get him back into the old red, white and blue post haste,” Tony says easily, looking at his nails with interest. “Besides, mine is better.”

Natasha shrugs good naturedly. “I don’t doubt that. With the way this guy fights, he’ll need all the protection he can get.”

 Both Steve and Natasha look back as an alarm sounds. All of the movement in the background freezes as well. There are a few muffled words over the P.A. system and Steve turns back to the screen, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Looks like we’ll be landing soon,” he says. “I’ll talk to you when we’re finished up here. Take care, Tony.” He leans in closely to the camera, shadowing it with his face to get at the microphone. “You too, Bucky,” he says in a whisper, so just Bucky and Tony can hear. A few moments later, the transmission ends and Jarvis closes the screen for them.

Tony looks over to Bucky anxiously, expecting the man to wilt again. Instead, he has his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Only a few more days, right? That’s good news,” Tony starts conversationally.

“Why’s Steve suddenly so nervous around that dame... Natasha, right?” Bucky asks instead of answering. “He wasn’t before. And it ain’t infatuation… he acts different.”

“Natasha’s scary when she wants to be, believe me. He probably hadn’t expected it,” Tony tells him, though he noticed the same and couldn’t completely dismiss his uneasiness. “Maybe he wasn’t expecting a woman to be so… ruthless.”

“He knows Peggy Carter,” Bucky says dismissively. “He knows how ruthless women can be. She’d have laid him out if he ever forgot it. No… it’s something else.”

“It might not even have anything to do with Natasha. Might just be that he’s stressed from the mission,” Tony says. “But you’re right… I might have to do some hacking, figure out what they were sent to do… or at least what they sent Natasha in for.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t… I never thought I would say this, but we might be in over our heads,” he says. “We sent Steve in blind, there’s no way to contact him if we find something...” He sighs, summoning Dummy with a wave to limp his way over to Tony. “The… the war wasn’t as cut and dry as the history books make it seem, but at least we were sure the people on our side weren’t going to stab us in the back.”

“They won’t kill Steve,” Tony says. That is the one reason Tony sent Steve in the first place. Shield won’t kill Steve, no matter where their loyalties lies, no matter what they're planning. He is the only one with the serum besides Bucky, and if he gets killed, Shield is no doubt aware Tony will pull out all the stops, so that they don’t get Bucky and reveal all their secrets in the process.

“Yeah, but we both know that’s not the worse they could do,” Bucky says darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doodled some things for this on my [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/post/125812278907/i-am-a-dork-and-doodled-a-few-scenes-for-my)


	14. Untouchable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve starts the second leg of his mission, Bucky and Bruce have a tea party and Tony comes to a startling realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So school has begun and it looks like I'm going to be horrendously busy. Good thing is, I will still have time to write, it's just finding time to update that will be a problem. We'll have to see, but updates are probably going to be sporadic until I've gotten into the swing of things.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: More small hints to torture and there is also some more talk of Bucky's survivor guilt and some allusions to how he is feeling, so take caution.
> 
> Chapter title is from Thor: The Dark World and wow, this title has so many layers of meaning you could call it an onion... or an ogre.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve sighs as he shuts the communicator after hanging up with Bucky and Tony. He had wanted to talk to Bucky more, ask him how his arm and feet are, if Tony is treating him alright, but it couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t afford to mention Bucky among so many people who could be seeking him out, trying to experiment on him or hurt him.

Steve tucks the communicator back on the shelf. “Did you enjoy your call?” Natasha asks as he returns to the space where he was sitting, the only open space on the Quinjet. The main area of the 'jet is packed, by both Agents and prisoners. They were able to pick up all the men Steve had knocked out to take in for questioning and possible incarceration. He was unaware of what they did with the weapons supplies, as he and Natasha were quickly whisked away to prepare for the next leg of their mission.

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve answers, settling next to Natasha, fighting the pit she puts in his stomach. He can’t get the man’s whimpering pleas out of his head, paired with Natasha’s cold reply and the final shot. He had not seen the body, but he could see the blood under Natasha’s nails, the flecks she didn’t quite keep out of her hair. He had to swallow a lump in his throat at the thought of how it got there. A clean shot to the head wouldn’t splatter that much blood on Natasha. She had to have tortured him.

He shakes the thoughts from his head, filing them away to report to Tony. “It was good to hear Tony again.”

“Seeing you will keep him from getting in the suit and coming to find you,” Natasha shrugs. “He might not let on, but he worries about you. Fashion and tradition wasn’t all he was worried about when he talked about your suit.”

“You think he’d actually come hunt me down?” Steve asks. “He doesn’t even know where I am.”

“I have no doubt he could find out. He basically designed Shield’s firewalls,” Natasha says, not bothering with a conspiratorial tone, as if it’s a fact everyone knows. “No information is safe from Tony Stark… He might even have a tracker on you.” She gives him a look that pins Steve down like a bug, even with her small smirk and quirked eyebrow.

“Pretty sure Shield would have found it, then,” Steve says, swallowing. “And he would have told me.”

Natasha makes a non-committal hum and stands. “We land in ten. Be ready.”

Steve nods before standing and finding his shield. He knows Natasha is just trying to get in his head, it’s what she does, whether or not she means to, but he can’t help the quick examination he gives his shield for trackers. Or the hands he runs over his arms and back to brush off any bugs Tony might have planted. He isn't sure what makes him so uneasy about it, but it does. It fills him with dread, is Tony just as intent on monitoring him as Shield?

Tony has been hacking for hours now, leaving Bucky anxious and bored, meaning he has energy he can’t quite get rid of. Around an hour into Tony becoming completely engrossed in his computer screen, Bucky makes his way up to the gym and sparing room with a request to Jarvis to update him if anything changes. He can’t walk, and he’s down an arm, but that doesn’t mean he can’t work out. He ends up lifting weights with his right arm, doing sit-ups and one-armed chin-ups. It seems that his time spent in an induced coma didn’t do much to dull his muscles, probably a result of the serum now in his veins. He still has the desire to bulk up, though, even if he can’t go back in the field, or even match Steve’s bulk. He wants to see how effective this serum is, test it, maybe wear it out of his system, even if the seventy years in ice couldn’t.

That is where Bruce catches him, in the middle of doing sit-ups while hanging from one of the uneven bars.

“I’m not sure you should be so active so soon,” Bruce admonishes once he enters the floor, but doesn’t move to stop Bucky.

“If I don’t do this, I’m going to explode,” Bucky says, releasing his abdominal muscles and hanging to look at Bruce upside down.

“That’s an improvement from yesterday, right?” Bruce says, trying to lighten the mood.

Bucky snorts. He swings upright and sets himself gently down on the floor, catching his weight with his heels, the places that are least cut up. “Still tired as shit, Doc, just got a whole lot of nerves piled on top,” he says. Dummy roles over to him, water bottle clutched in his claws. Bucky accepts the bottle and thanks Dummy kindly.

Bruce taps his foot thoughtfully as Bucky takes a long drink from the bottle, slicking back his hair with his own sweat. “You should shower,” Bruce points out needlessly, and Bucky laughs. “As for the nerves… I have tea for that… do you want to try it?”

Bucky eyes him for a few seconds, chewing the inside of his lip before speaking. “Thanks for the offer, but… no thanks,” he says. “If I get rid of the nerves then I…” He looks away, expression darkening, and Bruce’s concern only grows.

“It’s just tea… it’s just… calming … I should know,” Bruce reasons. “Should make you feel better… the nerves and… anything else.”

He lets Bucky think for a few moments before speaking again. “Tell you what. You shower… I was going to make tea anyways. Come to my floor if you’re interested.” With that, he leaves Bucky to his thoughts and heads back to the elevator.

Bruce does as he said he would, boiling the water for tea and fetching the loose leaves from his kitchen cupboard. He would normally just make a cup of tea, but as he has no idea whether or not Bucky will take him up on his offer, he takes the light green cast iron teapot that Pepper bought him as a housewarming gift and sets it on the counter.

There’s a knock on the wood of his door frame before Bucky enters. He is still wet from his shower, hair parted neatly and combed back and he is wearing a light gray ‘Vanilla Ice’ sweatshirt that either belongs to Steve from Tony or Tony bought for Bucky, Bruce isn’t sure.

“So about the tea… how’s it taste?” Bucky asks, smiling sheepishly.

Bruce returns the smile softly, setting the small mix of white tea and strawberries into the tea strainer. “Hopefully like strawberries. I’ll put sugar and cream out,” he says pleasantly.

Bucky settles down at the bar side of the kitchen counter, taking one of the two stools there. Bruce doesn’t see a lot of company, for multiple reasons, and thus does not have much in the way of additional furniture.

Bruce sets a mug in front of Bucky and one in front of the stool next to him while the tea steeps. He leans his hip against the counter and watches the way Bucky fiddles with the handle of his mug, and how he vibrates slightly with the anxious bouncing of his knee.

“So, what happened to work you up this much?” Bruce asks, figuring the more direct route will prompt Bucky to respond better. He isn’t a psychiatrist or psychologist, but the Hulk has forced him to learn things about his brain that he wouldn’t know ordinarily. And he has suspicions about what is making Bucky lethargic, what is causing his severe nightmares, and the anxiety, but the only way he can find out is if Bucky talks to him and tells him how he is feeling.

Bucky looks up, somewhat surprised, and then looks down again. “Steve’s acting weird,” he says. “We got a call from him and he’s all uptight. He gets like that on missions, but… not like this. Something is… fishy with the mission he’s on… more than he thought, I think… and he just figured it out and he’s trying not to show it to his teammates.” He clenches his fist and his leg stops bouncing. He hunches his shoulders almost to his ears as if to protect himself from a chill. “He’s gonna get caught, Bruce. He wears his heart on his sleeve, he can’t lie for shit. Steve’s blunt and upfront… he starts showing tact and they’re gonna get suspicious.”

The kettle on the stove lets out a shrill screech to alert that the water is boiling. Bucky jumps nearly an inch off his seat and wobbles dangerously. Bruce is quick to place a firm, steadying hand on Bucky’s good shoulder, supporting him.

“It’s just the kettle,” Bruce says, releasing Bucky to go and turn the heat off, moving to pour the water into the pot. “I have an electric one that clicks, but I left it down in my lab.”

“It’s fine… it was stupid of me to react like that,” Bucky says, relaxing marginally. Bruce sets a small, five minute tea timer on the counter, and Bucky watches the colored sand pass from the top chamber into the bottom. It seems to relax him even further and he sighs. “I’m not… I’m not worried about them killing Steve,” he says, watching, transfixed as the sand trickles through. “I… they kept me in a coma to experiment on me… there’s no telling what they could do to Steve… could do it right in front of him and he wouldn’t know…” Bucky continues, muttering, pressing his forehead into his hand.

Bruce grabs his shoulder again, careful, but sure, and attempts to capture his attention. “Bucky, calm down,” he says firmly. Bucky breathes heavilyy through his nose, but tries to do as Bruce asks. “Steve will be fine. He knows to be cautious. He is… earnest, but they don’t know him like you do, Bucky. They won’t know the difference between him being stressed or suspicious.”

“That dame… Natasha… she’s a spy, ain’t she? She’s made a living of reading people. She’ll see it,” Bucky says, though it’s less frantic.

“As far as I’m aware, she’s on our side. She might work for Shield, but she agreed to hide your awakening. She has to have suspicions of her own,” Bruce assures, even if the statement makes his stomach twist in concern.

Bucky relents, if only slightly and Bruce pours him some tea. He sets the sugar between their two cups and fetches the half and half from the fridge.

Bucky doctors his tea like he would a cup of coffee, adding cream and quite a bit of sugar. “That might be too swee—“ Bruce stops himself when Bucky takes a sip and shuts his eyes, humming.

“You’re right, it does taste like strawberries,” Bucky comments, and Bruce smiles at that. He will have to keep in mind that Bucky likes this tea.

“You don’t need to worry about Steve,” Bruce says, continuing the conversation from before. “He is safe. Shield has no reason to think he’s suspecting them, and even if they did, they can’t touch him. Tony showed you his suit, right? You know if he thought Steve was in trouble he would use that to save him.”

It seems to calm Bucky slightly, but his expression also darkens slightly. “Yeah,” he says blankly, setting the cup on the table. “Wouldn’t have to do that if I was there with him… Or if I hadn’t woken up in the first place.”

“Stop,” Bruce says. It comes out a little louder than he intended and Bucky jumps again, looking up. Bruce can feel the faint stirrings of the Hulk inside him, waking because of Bruce’s worry and frustration over Bucky. “Whether or not you are alive has nothing to do with our situation with Shield,” he continues firmly, holding Bucky’s eyes now that he has his attention. “If anything we’d be more clueless than we are now. Steve really would be going in blind. He would be fighting for a cause he couldn’t fully trust without even knowing. You made us aware that there is something shady going on with Shield. Their actions with you proved that our suspicions were correct, that at least part of Shield couldn’t be trusted. Tell me how that’s a bad thing,” he demanded, both hands on the counter, now fully in Bucky’s face. “Tell me how you being alive is at all harmful to us. Tell me Steve would be better off without you.”

Bucky stares at him, wide-eyed and still for a few seconds, before speaking. “Your eyes are green,” he says, shocked.

Bruce practically rockets away from Bucky, disturbing the cups on the counter and slamming into the fridge. Breathe in, breathe out, he tells himself, over and over. Hulking out in front of Bucky would do more harm in this situation than good. He can hardly think of a time when Hulking out is more good than bad, other than when he was saving New York, when he was fighting aliens to protect people. He focuses on these thoughts, calming himself down, telling the Hulk that he has a time, he is useful and good, but not right now.

“Bruce…?” Bucky asks hesitantly. Bruce looks up to find him halfway out of his chair.

“Stop… stop,” Bruce says, holding his hand out. “I’m… I’m fine. I’ll come to you,” he says softly. After a few more minutes of deep breathing, he walks over and takes a sip of his tea, breathing heavily through his nose. He looks over at Bucky who looks even guiltier than he did before. “I’m fine, Bucky,” Bruce says to start.

“Okay, good. I’m sorry… I… I’ll.” Bucky goes to stand, but Bruce stops him.

“It’s okay. I’m fine… I should be apologizing. I just got… worked up,” Bruce says, sheepish. “It happens more often than I’d like to admit.”

“That was… you almost…” Bucky clearly struggles with the words, unsure of what to call Bruce’s transformation.

“Tony calls it ‘Hulking,’” Bruce says, filling in where Bucky is lacking. “You haven’t seen the other guy… the Hulk… He only comes out when I get… excited.”

“Angry,” Bucky corrects. “You’re mad at me.”

“I…” Bruce contemplates lying, but decides against it. “Yes. I am. Before you woke up, during the Battle of New York, I had an opportunity to get to know Steve. I like him. He’s a good person. He is... the most genuine person I've met. The... Hulk, like him too. And from what I’ve seen, Steve cares about you, more than I think you realize. Before you woke up, he was depressed, to say the least and when you woke up, it was as if he changed into a completely different person. If he knew you were feeling like this, he’d be devastated, Bucky.”

“That’s why we aren’t going to tell him,” Bucky replies firmly. He isn’t interested in hurting Steve, even if it means threatening the Hulk. “I can’t help the way I feel, Bruce.”

“You can talk to someone about it,” Bruce insists. “I don’t know how it was in your day… even now, it’s a still stigmatized, but it’s more accepted now. There are people who are experts in this sort of thing. They can help you with your nightmares… to cope with your thoughts.”

Bucky slams his hands on the counter, making tea slosh out of the mugs. “And who the hell am I supposed to talk to, Bruce?!” he shouts, forgetting himself, or else he doesn’t care about the Hulk. Bruce will probably appreciate that later, after Bucky's done yelling at him. Right now, Bruce is fighting the Hulk down with everything he has, unable to formulate a response. Bucky continues, uncaring. “Everyone thinks I’m in a coma! And who in the world is going to understand my situation? I let my best friend crash a goddamn plane into the arctic! I've got some hybrid serum in my blood that I didn't ask for and I can't get rid of! I shouldn't be here! I should be dead! I should have died when that plane crashed, but that serum wouldn't let me!!" His fists clench where they are pressing into the counter top. "Now Steve's off infiltrating some powerful, secret government organization that could do _anything_ to him and no one would be the wiser! This ain’t as simple as talking it out. And even if it was, I don’t feel like sharing.”

He stands, placing his feet fully on the ground, ignoring Bruce’s warning to be careful. He even stomps his feet as he walks to the elevator. "Thanks for the tea," he says, before he leaves, leaving Bruce so stunned that even the Hulk has gone silent in his head. His concern for Bucky only grows.

Tony is about three more failed attempts from throwing something, or getting in his suit and flying to Shield to get answers the more traditional way. Shield’s servers are divided into levels. He can’t even see the ones above level eight, though he knows they must be there. Anything above level three has encryptions upon encryptions, which Tony can’t break.

Instead of throwing something, Tony scratches his fingers through his hair, setting it into even more disarray than it was to begin with and lets out a string of curses. He hasn’t been this frustrated since he was programming Jarvis and the AI had the command words ‘open’ and ‘close’ mixed up.

Moments from tearing his own hair out, he is pulled out of his thoughts by the workshop door sliding open. Bucky storms through it, stomping unconcernedly on injured feet before he arrives at the couch and practically throws himself on it. He has a sour expression, mouth a thin line, brow furrowed and chin tilted down. He digs in his pocket for a few seconds, withdrawing some painkillers and stabbing himself savagely in the thigh with the needle before capping it and sticking it back in his pocket. He lays down and rolls over so that he is facing the back of the couch, all without speaking.

Tony has never dealt with Bucky like this, and not for the first time since Steve left, Tony wishes he had asked him to stay. “Bucky…?” Tony calls cautiously, standing and making his way to the couch. Bucky doesn’t respond and moves only to squish his face into the couch cushions. “Come on, Bucky, that couch hasn’t been cleaned in years. You don’t want to stick your face in that.”

Bucky muffles something that sounds scarily close to ‘don’t tell me what to do,’ into the couch cushion and Tony sighs.

“Seriously, Bucky? What happened in the--” He looks at his watch, only to find he doesn’t have a watch. “How long have I been down here Jarvis?”

“Approximately Three and a half hours, Sir,” Jarvis replies.

“What happened in the three and a half hours I’ve been down here, Bucky?” Tony asks, now standing over Bucky and placing his hands on his hips.

“Nothing,” Bucky lies, turning further into the couch. “Go back to figuring out what the fuck Shield is up to. I’m taking a nap.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna take longer than your nap. And I need to take break anyway,” Tony says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Bucky rolls over and glares at him fiercely, both angry and betrayed. Tony tries not to backpedal. “Thought you were going to find out what Shield wants… Isn’t that urgent?” Bucky says testily.

Tony scrunches his nose at the accusation in those words. “You wanna try to crack a triple encryption, be my guest. I’ve been trying for three and a half hours and I’m about ready to just bomb Shield's server room,” he says, frustration clear. “I wouldn’t be taking a break if I wasn’t against a rock.” He runs his fingers through his hair again, tugging at the strands, making them stand up on end.

That seems to give Bucky a pause, but not in a good way. His expression morphs into something almost frantic as he chews his lip. “So what? We’re stuck?” he asks. The prospect is clearly distressing. “We can’t be stuck, Tony. We need to figure out what Shield wants. Steve needs us to.”

“Steve is going to be fine,” Tony insists, tucking away his own private anxieties for another time. “I…” He looks away, thinking for a moment, before steeling himself. “I may have put a tracker on him… that gives me a location and an accurate readout of his vitals at any given time,” he admits.

Bucky doesn’t look angry, but he does looked shocked. “When did you do that?” he asks, oddly neutral.

“Before he left. I wouldn’t put it on him at any other time,” Tony is quick to add the last part. “We don’t know what this mission of his actually is. I needed… a backup plan. I’ll deactivate it when he gets back, but for now…”

“Good on you,” Bucky says, cutting Tony off before he launches into a ramble. “So… so if something goes wrong you’ll use your… suit… to go get him, right?”

“Of course!” Tony says. “It’s set to alert me to when his vitals spike or drop in a bad way… of course we still have to account for the adrenaline rush he gets when he’s fighting and all that, but Jarvis is good at pinpointing the difference between adrenaline and…” he trails off, avoiding mentioning Steve getting injured. “Anyway, I can be there in less than an hour and back with Cap in tow in less than eight, so no worries, Bucky.”

“The new suit will be equipped with full body scanners, like mine, so Jarvis. can keep track of his health more accurately,” Tony added.

“You’d better tell him about those,” Bucky warns. “He already ain’t gonna be happy that you stuck him with something that monitors him without telling him.”

Tony nods with a swallow. “So, you done giving yourself gray hair? Though you probably could use some to match your age.” Tony gives Bucky his best shit eating grin.

“’Least I don’t have any yet,” Bucky says with a casual glance towards Tony’s hair. “Looks like you’ve grown enough for the both of us.”

“Hey!” Tony reaches forward and tugs the throw blanket that’s strewn over the back of the sofa over Bucky’s head.

Later that night, Tony notices a tenseness between Bruce and Bucky. Many people have accused him of not being able to ‘read the air,’ but he is observant, he just chooses not to act on it. He makes the same decision here, eating and chattering with both Bruce and Bucky with feigned obliviousness.

The tension breaks somewhat over dessert when Tony manages to coax Bucky into telling an embarrassing story about Steve while they were kids. He barely notices Bruce relaxing slightly, as Bucky’s shoulders also deflate and he leans easily on the table, engrossed in his story, scooping ice cream into his mouth at dramatic pauses.

The story is something endearing, portraying Steve as somehow both virginal and a spitfire without any incongruity. That is all well and good, but Tony is distracted by Bucky, the way his normally steely gray eyes warm over into a deeper, warmer shade of blue. He is enraptured by the way Bucky’s lips naturally curl up at the edges, making his smile seem that more intense. And Tony is positively captivated by the lilt of his voice, syllables strong with Brooklyn when he mimics Steve.

Along with all these thoughts, something warm stirs in his gut, something a little warmer than fondness, a little beyond attraction. Tony had realized early on that Bucky was attractive, how could one not, but this feeling goes beyond lusty looks and casually flirtatious remarks. Tony really likes Bucky. He likes the way Bucky looks, likes the way he talks, likes his sense of humor and his protectiveness. Tony doesn’t think he has felt like this about someone since Pepper, this odd mix of both allure and endearment.

With this realization, comes the doubt as well. Tony doesn’t know if Bucky feels the same way. And the man is from a different time, a time when the kind of thing Tony is looking for wasn’t accepted at all, rather than just frowned at. There is also the way that Bucky talks about Steve to consider. His fierce protectiveness over Steve, the way he acts like Steve’s his whole world, how every time Steve leaves the room Bucky seems to deflate, like Steve’s the only thing in the room worth being happy for. If Bucky loves anyone – in that way – it would be Steve. Tony doesn’t even have a chance at competing with the man.

Tony understands too, Steve is sunshine and warmth to Bucky where Steve is like a rock to Tony. Where he is a source of light for Bucky, he is something stable to pull Tony back when he is about to go over the edge. It results in a lot of clashes, sure, because if Steve’s a rock, Tony’s a landslide, but Steve stands firm through it like other people don’t. He doesn’t back down. Tony appreciates that more than Steve probably realizes. It doesn’t help that Steve’s drop dead gorgeous in an entirely different way than Bucky, like two sides of the same coin.

Even if Steve and Bucky didn't already depend on each other like oxygen, it is obvious that acting on these feelings towards either one of them would net Tony neither of them. Tony is instability, he is chaos, he is just barely clinging to the rational side of thought. He is the polar opposite of the thoughtful, stable, tactical Steve Rogers. On top of that, Tony is also cynical, he is over-protective and controlling. He is all the bad parts of the realistic, caring, and watchful Bucky Barnes. He would only drag them down, pull them apart.

Tony is good at bottling up his feelings, though. He had done it for Pepper and he will do it for Steve and Bucky, so that they can be happy and free from the disaster that is Tony Stark. He promised to keep the both of them safe, and he will keep that promise in regards to himself as well.

“Tony…?” Bucky asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Tony jerks slightly, dropping his spoon into his bowl with a loud clatter. “Yeah-huh?” he asks, quick and almost frantic.

“We’ve been calling your name for a while,” Bruce says, sounding worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Tony replies, almost frantically. “Hey! I was just thinking about the encryptions, and my suit… Got some ideas, I should go work on them!” He quickly deposits his bowl in the sink, leaving Bucky and Bruce behind with a flurry of chatter and movement, disappearing into the elevator before either of them can say anything to him.

Later, when he has his arms elbow deep in his three most pressing projects, and Jarvis working on the encryption code at a speed Tony could never manage on his own, he doesn’t hear Bucky’s soft footsteps into the room. He doesn’t smell Bucky’s freshly washed hair or see his ensemble of Tony’s shirt and Steve’s slightly too big pajama shorts. He doesn’t even hear Bucky’s soft sigh, a mixture of tenderness and exasperation all in one simple exhale. He doesn’t notice Bucky is in the room until a quarter past five in the morning, when he finds the man once again sound asleep, slumped on his couch.

He reaches forward and rests a hand gently on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky snorts awake. He sits up a little fuller, covering Tony’s hand on his shoulder with his own, blinking sleepily.

“We had an arrangement,” Bucky says muzzily, looking up at Tony with sleep glazed eyes.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. You know the kind of hours I work at the office,” Tony replies, uncharacteristically soft, even with the humor. “How about we get to bed?”

Bucky smiles, something warm and sleep mussed, allowing Tony to help him off the couch. Together the two of them stumble up to Tony’s bedroom this time, and Bucky falls back asleep with his nose pressed into Tony’s throat. Tony spares a moment to warn himself not to get used to Bucky’s warmth at his side, or the gentle puff of his breath through the otherwise silent bedroom, before he falls right after him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to put updates on [my Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/) as to what's going on with updates.
> 
> Also a note about Tony's relationship with Pepper, since I don't really plan on elaborating in the story. Tony and Pepper have been best friends and colleagues and Pepper is still the CEO of Stark Industries, but Tony and Pepper have never been in a romantic relationship. Tony had feelings for Pepper (and probably still does), but did not act on them, choosing to keep Pepper as a friend.


	15. It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Steve returns, Tony gets drunk and makes some very bad or very good decisions, who can tell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! We are updating! It's less that I have a lot of homework this semester and more that I don't get home until late, so I have very little time to do updates. I'm back to writing at a decent speed, though. So there's that. I want to apologize if this chapter isn't great. I feel like it's lacking detail, but I really needed a dialogue heavy chapter to get some stuff squared away.
> 
> Chapter title is from the Age of Ultron soundtrack. I could not resist.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Drinking and talk of alcoholism.
> 
> Thank you all for all your feedback! It's really encouraging to me and makes me want to update even though I'm tired when I get home. Please keep the feedback coming and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

The next few days without Steve go much like the first did. Tony and Bruce work and Bucky haunts the upper and lowermost floors. It seems Bruce's talk with Bucky didn't really help him much, because whenever he is alone he is either twitchy and anxious or melancholy and deflated.

Tony is simultaneously trying to keep Bucky close, while also keep himself from falling head over heels for the brunette. Each of Bucky's smiles he elicits, or the way his feet tangle themselves together when he can feel the other's eyes on him, seem to tell him that it's too late. If Tony isn't already in love with Bucky, he is on his way there and fast.

But Tony has self-control, but maybe not where is counts. So instead of being in bed with Bucky, cupping his face and kissing him silly like he wants to be, three o'clock the morning Steve is supposed to be returning finds Tony drinking heavily. He is the most drunk he has been since he made his promise to Pepper and plans on getting completely smashed before the sun rises.

Jarvis must have told Bruce, because after he is about half of the way through a bottle of scotch, a gentle hand takes his glass out of his wobbly fingers and replaces it with water.

“Don't like being handed things,” Tony reminds grumpily, but his fingers close around the glass anyway.

Bruce takes a seat next to him, cradling his own water. “What happened?” Bruce asks without any preamble. “Thought you were doing okay… At least that's what Ms. Potts told me.”

“Pepper,” Tony corrects, leaning his head against the cool granite top of the bar. “She doesn't like being called Ms. Potts. She likes Pepper.”

“Okay,” Bruce accepts easily. “You still didn't answer my question.”

“Why does any--” He pauses to hiccup. “Why does anything have to be happening? Maybe I just wanna have on last hurrah before Captain Tight Ass comes back.”

“And you didn't take the past couple of days to do that?” Bruce asks, the perceptive bastard. He takes a drink and watches Tony knowingly.

Tony sighs and fiddles with his glass, setting it in serious danger of spilling. “I'm in trouble, Bruce.”

“Bruce tenses and stiffens in clear misunderstanding. “Did Shield--”

“No,” Tony says immediately. “No. Shield wouldn't know I was hacking them if I walked right up and told them.” The ice makes a small _tink_ as the glass wobbles. “No… It's something more complicated than that...”

“Care to elaborate?” Bruce presses and Tony lets out a long, drawn out sigh.

“No...” Tony almost whines. “S'why I was drinking, so I didn't have to worry about it.”

“The problem doesn't go away because you're drunk off your ass, Tony,” Bruce admonishes, like Tony doesn't already know that.

“I think it works fine. Since I don't have to think about it,” Tony insists childishly. Bruce lets out his own long-suffering sigh.

“If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but I'm cutting you off for tonight,” Bruce says as he stands and gathers the liquor bottles set out on the counter. Tony had gone straight for the hard stuff, not intent on messing around, or perhaps on messing around too much.

Tony lets Bruce take the liquor apathetically. It wasn't helping that much anyway. He poked at the glass of water Bruce gave him instead of drinking it. The water would probably help sober him up sooner and make the inevitable hangover better, but he stubbornly didn't want to drink it. He somewhat wanted a reason not to get out of bed in the morning. A hangover would be a good reason. It was in character for him. Steve would probably be expecting it.

A hand on his shoulder roused him from that train of thought. “Maybe you should go to bed?” Bruce suggests kindly, acting as if he is going to guide Tony off of the stool.

“No thanks,” Tony retorts immediately, practically melting against the counter. Bruce huffs and parks himself next to Tony again.

They sit in silence for a while, Tony watching the ice melt in his glass while Bruce exercises some truly impressive patience. As each moment ticks by, Tony feels a pressure build in his chest until it wells into his eyes, threatening to spill over as tears. He cannot believe he has gotten this broken up over Bucky. Tony feels like a child that got rejected by his first playground crush. And the worst part is, he hasn't even asked yet.

To prevent himself from sobbing, or screaming to release the pressure in his chest, Tony speaks. “I like Bucky,” Tony says, resisting the urge to slap himself for the childish statement.

“He's… uh… a likable guy,” Bruce says cautiously, obviously unclear.

“No, like, I really like him… like, like-like him,” Tony clarifies. The amount of 'likes' in that sentence make him cringe.

Bruce's face twists like he is either fighting not to be sick or forcing back a smile. “Okay… go on...” he says, surprisingly composed. “You 'like-like' Bucky… so…?”

“Like, I think he's hot,” Tony says bluntly. Bruce inhales his water and spends a good thirty seconds coughing. Tony waits for him to finish before continuing. “But… I think almost everyone is hot… it's more than that… it's...” he trails off, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I really, really like him,” Tony finishes, at a loss.

There is a long silence while Bruce thinks and Tony drowns in a combination of confusion and embarressment. “So you're attracted to Bucky in more than just his looks,” Bruce surmises after a few seconds. “That's… that's not a problem, Tony.”

“Yes, it is,” Tony insists. He looks away for a few seconds, thinking about Steve, thinking about Bucky, thinking about Steve and Bucky. “I might… I also… Steve...”

Bruce pauses, eying Tony dubiously. “You're not...” Tony covers his head with his arms, pressing his nose into the hard surface of the bar top. “Steve too?”

“Yeah… I mean, I think...” Tony says, unsure. “They're both hot, okay? And… and… good, I guess… funny… it's like… They aren't real.” He flounders for a bit, trying to find the words. “I don't know,” he says finally, deflating.

Bruce nods thoughtfully, as if Tony isn't completely confusing. “So it's… the same… attraction, to both of them?” he broaches carefully.

“Yes? Well.. I mean… they both… I don't know,” Tony finishes lamely. Bruce isn't Rhodey, he doesn't know about Tony's experiences, at least not like his best friend. Tony can't draw a comparison with Pepper in this case. “I'm not… not being… selfish?” The word comes out like a question. He doesn't feel only sexual attraction, is what he wants to say, but he doesn't have the words. “I don't… I don't just want to bang them. I mean, I do… I really, really do, but--”

To Tony's surprise, Bruce starts giggling. He is obviously trying to contain himself. His hand is covering his mouth, hiding his grin and his shoulders shake with the sound he is repressing. Tony watches him, dumbfounded. Bruce takes a deep breath, letting it out, though he is still fighting a smile.

“Sorry… God… sorry, that was rude.” Bruce takes a swallow of water, chokes on it, and proceeds to cough again. Tony just watches in stunned silence. He feels like he should be offended that Bruce is laughing at him, but he is more shocked that Bruce is laughing at all.

Tony allows Bruce to have his moment, still not quite understanding what got Bruce laughing in the first place. Eventually, Bruce calms enough to speak again.

“Sorry, just… where I've been… that isn't even a complicated subject,” Bruce says, genuine.

“What isn't?” Tony asks dumbly.

“This,” Bruce gestures vaguely. “You… having feelings for Steve and Bucky…liking two people at once. Also, I know you don't just want to have sex with them… That's not the problem. You'd feel a lot less conflicted, right? If that was the only reason?”

“Threesomes are a lot simpler to arrange when I don't want to cook for the participants afterwards,” Tony says by way of agreement, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can't be getting a hangover already.

Bruce nods with a slight bubble of laughter. “Have you thought about… talking to them about it?”

“I can't do that!” Tony nearly shouts. “Are you kidding me? They're both form the fucking forties… you couldn't sneeze wrong without being thrown in jail for sodomy.”

“I don't think it was that extreme,” Bruce comments, but still rubs his chin in thought. “They both seem pretty… progressive about it. Bucky actually seemed excited when he found out it was legal to get married here. Pretty sure he was about to invite himself to that tech's wedding.”

That gives Tony a pause, but he still refuses to let himself even hope. “Yeah, okay. Assuming that both Steve and Bucky in all their hyper-masculine, forties glory think it's okay to be gay. There's still the problem of me… er… liking both of them.”

Bruce takes a sip of water and doesn't choke this time. “That is a little more complicated. You're going to need to communicate,” Bruce says. Tony is surprised Bruce is as okay with this as he is. “You're going to need to talk to them. Explain how you feel and be ready for a no.”

“I can't do that. I definitely can't do that,” Tony insists. He lets out a frustrated groan, pressing himself against the bar top. “Why don't.. why don't you do it? I'll pay you.”

“I am not confessing your desire for a polyarmorous relationship to Steve and Bucky for you,” Bruce says firmly, but still somewhat amused. “I doubt they'll appreciate it coming from me. No, Tony, this is something you're going to have to do on your own. Probably somewhat soon, seeing as they both live here.”

Tony groans again. He doesn't think the sick feeling in his gut has anything to do with the alcohol. Bruce smiles softly and runs a hand down Tony's back.

“It'll work out, Tony,” Bruce says with certainty. “ Worst thing they can say is 'no,'" he says in what Tony is sure to be a resassuring tone. It has the opposite effect, however. "Now drink that water and go to bed. You need to be up for when Steve gets back tomorrow. If not out of courtesy, then to impress him."

Tony complains the whole way, but eventually he is being tucked in by none other than Bruce Banner, alter-ego to the Hulk. Tony doesn't dwell too much on that, though. Instead, he worries for Bucky and feels guilty over breaking their arrangement, but as soon as his head hits the pillow, he is asleep.

About an hour later, Tony is roused by the door to his room opening softly. He turns slightly to see Bucky peeking in. He looks pale and sweaty, even in the dark. Their eyes meet and Bucky shrinks back slightly.

“M'wake,” Tony mumbles. “Can see you.”

“Jarvis said you were up here. I… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Bucky says, entering the room cautiously. "You weren't... you didn't come to bed." He is very pale in the moonlight shining into Tony's room. There is a fine sheen of sweat over his face and weighing his hair down. Tony sits up from his bed and invites Buck to sit down in the space next to him. Bucky goes quietly and with him close, Tony can see that he is shaking intermittently.

“Oh shit! Did you have another nightmare?” Tony blurts, still somewhat tipsy. The alcohol doesn't make him any less guilty as he watches Bucky fiddle with the hem of his shirt with shaky fingers.

Bucky's expression tightens. “Yeah,” he says, looking down. “Got… got disorientated… so I came up here.”

“Well, bed's open. You can sleep in here tonight,” Tony says reasonably. The way the tension practically seeps out of Bucky's shoulders makes him feel awful. “I was just… working late... and Bruce put me to bed and he doesn't know about our... arrangement.”

Bucky nods in understanding, setting in bed next to Tony, but he doesn't lay down. “Tony… I...” Bucky blinks hard, eyes gone glassy in the moonlight and Tony thinks he can make out tears at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. “I...” The second time he tries is worse, his voice has gone hoarse and thready. Tony grabs his hand to comfort him and ends up with an armful of Bucky.

Tony stiffens slightly, but then returns the hug, pulling Bucky close and running a hand down his back like Bruce had. Bucky buries his nose into Tony's shoulder, badly suppressing a sniffle.

“Keep having these dreams,” Bucky says, quietly muffled into Tony's shoulder. “They're… they're bad, so bad. Used to… just be Steve… he's… I try so hard, but I… I can't ever save him. And he gets so disappointed… He's saved me so many times and I can't do anything for him now, not like I used to… not like he needs me to”

Tony wishes that Bucky had decided to have this conversation when Tony was less drunk. “It's okay, Bucky. They're just dreams, right? Steve's fine.”

Bucky shakes his head against Tony's shoulder, gripping the fabric tightly. “And now you're in them too,” Bucky says, quiet and thick. Tony inwardly chides himself for the way his heart skips at the admission. He should not be happy about being the subject of Bucky's nightmares.

“I… you're…” Bucky stutters to continue, oblivious to Tony's inner monologue. “Can't ever save you either… even with both arms. The suit fails and you…” Tony can feel the way Bucky clamps down on the rest of that sentence. “I'm… I'm sorry… You don't want to hear this.” Bucky tries to extract himself from Tony. Tony can't explain the way his arms tighten around Bucky to keep him there, just that Bucky needs to not be alone.

“You're right, I don't want to hear this,” Tony says, but doesn't let Bucky go. Instead, he lowers him gently down onto the bed, arms still cradling Bucky like the precious thing he is. Tony ends up leaning over him, staring nose to nose with Bucky. “I don't want you to have nightmares. I don't like how the dark circles under your eyes only get darker. It… it makes it even worse that it's me in your head now,” Tony says. Bucky stares up at him, slightly surprised. Tony quirks a smile that probably turns out looking bigger than he intended. The effects of the alcohol, he's sure. “I'm sure you get more than enough of me during the day, don't need me bothering you at night too.”

Bucky lets out a wet laugh. “Believe me, I don't think I could ever get enough of you,” he says and Tony has to ruin the moment.

“What?” Tony asks, eyes wide, weak smile frozen on his face.

Bucky looks vaguely alarmed, brow furrowing in confusion and barely restrained panic. It's amazing how expressive Bucky's face is. “What?” Bucky echoes.

They stay like that, each staring at each other in something just shy of horror, and Tony is relatively sure neither of them quite know why. At least a minute ticks by and Tony can't stand the silence anymore. The emotion from earlier, plus the tension and the goddamn alcohol all come out as a manic laugh that breaks through the silence like a rock through a window.

Once he starts, he can't stop and he's giggling so hard his sides hurt. He is leaning over a tearful, distressed Bucky Barnes and giggling like a fool because he is such a failure. He can't even comfort Bucky without getting caught up in his own self-centered desires and insecurities. And now he has Bucky pinned underneath him while he laughs and possibly sobs at his own ineptitude.

“Tony,” Bucky says, and his hand wraps around Tony's and squeezes to get his attention. “How drunk are you?”

“Not enough,” Tony says automatically. Now his voice is hoarse and wrecked. “Not nearly enough, but Bruce cut me off.”

Bucky chuckles, lips tipping up at one side. “Never get to know your bartender,” he says sagely. “Might help if your bartender's not a doctor too.”

“He's not even a medical doctor!” Tony shouts incredulously, still in that high, manic voice of his. “How's he supposed to know?!”

“Seems like he's been around the block,” Bucky says with a meaningful glance at his bandaged left arm. Might not have the degree, but he's definitely got training.”

Tony flops onto Bucky chest, making him puff out a sharp breath that Tony echoes with his own. Tony places his elbows on either side of Bucky's head and rests his chin on his palms. “I guess you have a point,” Tony acquiesces, a little calmer this time. “Promised I wouldn't drink anymore… at least not that much...” He felt his chest sink with disappointment in himself. “I'm an alcoholic, you see. Don't know if you had those in the forties, but--”

Bucky cut him off with a bark of laughter. “We had them alright. 'Specially in my time. Had a lot to be drinking about, none of it good.”

“Were you one of them?” Tony asks unabashedly. “You don't strike me as the type.”

“Didn't know there was a type,” Bucky quips. He considers Tony's question for a moment. “Guess I wasn't by definition. I liked to get tipsy and go dancing… or take Steve out drinking… now I can't be, so...” He says these things wistfully. “I didn't drink like some of those folks… even during the war.” He pauses, staring into Tony's face. “Didn't know you drank anymore than socially… 'least not while I've been here. What's got you out of sorts?”

Tony blanches. “Nothing,” he says, then shakes his head, looking away. “Nothing I want to talk about anyway.”

“That's fair,” Bucky says with a shrug. “Just… I came in here and bawled on you, figure I'd let you return the favor.”

Tony watches Bucky's face for a moment, wary and thoughtful. “Do you… Bruce told me you were excited for one of my tech's weddings...”

“Bucky's eyes widen in surprise. “She didn't see me, if that's what you're worried about. Bruce just overheard it while he was downstairs and...”

“How do you feel about that kind of stuff…? The marriage, I mean,” Tony asks, cutting off Bucky's ramble. He doesn't care if a tech saw Bucky or not. He has enough money to bribe them into silence.

Bucky considers him for a long moment, chewing his lip. “I think it's good,” he says, tone careful. “I think people should be marrying who they want to be marrying.” Tony can feel the muscles of Bucky's chest tensing under him. “That going to be a problem?”

“No! No! Shit, no!” Tony is quick to say. “I just…” He looks away for a moment, catching the skyline of New York, still lit up despite it being so early in the morning. “Was… was wondering how you are… about that. Also… Shit...” Tony turns away and hunches in on himself, not sure what words he needs to use to ask. He has to be subtle about this, not pressure Bucky into anything, while also assuring he himself didn't get hurt. Bruce had stressed communication, so Tony is going to use his words and do some communicating.

“Tony,” Bucky leans up and places his hand on Tony's shoulder.

“I just wanted to know how you felt about this,” Tony says and then promptly grabs Bucky's face and presses his lips to Bucky's.

Apparently Tony spells subtle with fanfares, explosions and unexpected kisses directly on the mouth. Smooth move, he thinks. He will definitely be able to explain this one away. He just accidentally fell forward onto Bucky's mouth, and accidentally slipped his tongue between Bucky's lips and--

His eyes widen as Bucky's hand comes up to cup Tony's cheek. His tongue tangles with Tony's playfully, while Bucky tilts his head to get a better angle and presses in harder. He pulls Tony impossibly closer, so they are flush from chest to hip and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

_Oh._

Tony practically melts into the kiss after that, eyes sliding shut and giving himself to it. His fingers dig into the nape of Bucky's neck and pull him closer, and Bucky ends up leaning over Tony. Tony pulls out every trick he knows, doing his best to elicit little surprised grunts and appreciative hums from Bucky by sucking his tongue and nipping his lips whenever there is opportunity. Meanwhile, Bucky does the same, slowly lowering Tony towards the bed with his hand on his lower back, exercising his core strength to keep Tony from falling. Tony finds that, as well as Bucky's mouth incredibly arousing. As soon as Tony hits the mattress, Bucky pulls away and looks at him with a smirk.

“Was that supposed to surprise me?” he asks, cocky, even with a nice dark flush high on his cheeks. Tony wishes the lights were on, so he could see if Bucky flushed pink like Steve did. “Hope that was the answer you were looking for,” Bucky continues, quirking an eyebrow.

“Fuck yes,” Tony breaths. He surges up and wraps both arms around Bucky's shoulders, pulling him flush to his chest and slotting their mouths together. His hands wander along Bucky's side, tangle in his hair and Bucky swings a leg over Tony's to straddle him.

This isn't communication, Tony takes a moment to consider. Communication involves words, and talking, not slipping his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt, or pressing his hips up against Bucky's. He isn't even ten minutes into the relationship and he is already fucking things up.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join me on my [tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	16. Triumphant Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve comes home, sex does not happen, and Bruce insists this is a good thing even though Tony's libido would beg to differ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm really sorry for not updating for so long. I have a lot of homework to do most weeks. Though I will definitely have time to update next Friday as well and I have a treat planned, so... Look forward to that.
> 
> Chapter title is from the Captain America soundtrack.
> 
> I think there should be a warning for Bucky almost slipping up with a homosexual slur and some 'straight-until-proven-otherwise' thinking. And I guess what could be considered internalized homophobia. Because Bucky and Tony are still learning.
> 
> That being said, thank you all for your support and feedback! It really means a lot!! It's always makes my day to read your comments, so please keep them coming!

Tony would have never though he would view not having sex as a victory, but here he is. He had kissed Bucky last night, last night being a few hours ago in reality. And they had done a lot more than kiss. Tony remembers fondly wandering hands, grinding hips and playful nips at exposed skin. He also thinks, guiltily, that they should have probably talked more first.

He could be proud of himself in that he didn't let it get much further than his hands under Bucky's shirt. Bucky deserved some of his own credit too. He hadn't removed Tony's shirt, kept his hands above the belt and made sure Tony did the same. All and all, they had just had a very intense makeout session. Maybe Steve wouldn't feel as strong a need to tear Tony's arms off if he found out.

_Steve._ Tony groans and rolls off of where he is draped across Bucky's chest. A hand comes up to run through his hair and Bucky hums. “Where're you going? You owe me at least two more hours.” Tony glances up to see Bucky peering down at him fondly. There isn't even the slightest hint that he regrets what happened the night before.

“Steve's coming back today. We should be up to greet him,” Tony says, rolling out of bed.

Bucky's gaze follows him out of the bed and stays on him even as he goes to gather clothes. “Tony, do you even reme--”

“That? Yes! I wasn't _that_ drunk,” Tony says, a bit too eager to cut that sentence off. “Yeah, yeah, I remember that. How could I not?”

“Are we going to need to talk about that?” Bucky asks. He sits up and folds a pillow under his torso. “Because it looks like we are.”

“Can we… can we actually not?” Tony asks desperately. “I was being… stupid… really stupid.”

Bucky face falls and he pulls his knees up. “Yeah. Okay. “I'll just...” He moves to get out of bed.

“No, not like that!” Tony says before Bucky can even make it to the edge of the bed. “I… uh… shit. Just… stay there and let me explain?” he begs. He drops his armful of clothing and makes his way over to the bed. He sits heavily with a sigh, eyes directed at Bucky's blanket covered feet. “Last night wasn't casual,” Tony begins, fixing Bucky with a serious look.

“I was hoping not,” Bucky agrees, and Tony sighs. “You afraid of commitment?” Bucky asks bluntly, tilting his head. “It doesn't have to be… a regular thing. We don't have to make time or anything.” Bucky tries and fails to hide his disappointment.

Tony is quick to assuage it. “No… yes… yes, I don't like commitment, but I...” Tony huffs and Bucky is thankfully quiet. “You're different. I want to try with you. Which is why I wish I hadn't kissed you last night,” Tony says, covering his eyes with his hands. “I wanted… wanted to talk to you first, but I was drunk.”

Bucky smile softly, poking Tony's rear with his toe. “We can talk now,” he suggests.

“I don't know if you're gonna like what I have to say,” Tony admits. He is glad Bucky is so calm about it, because he is definitely not. “Have you done that before?”

“What, kissing? Maybe once or twice,” Bucky says with a shit-eating grin.

“Don't be an ass, that's my job. You know what I mean,” Tony chides, shoving Bucky lightly. “Men, I mean, have you kissed men before?”

“That's why I said 'once or twice,' and not 'more times than I can count,” Bucky says smartly.

Tony takes that into serious consideration. He doesn't care if Bucky has kissed a hundred men, but it's encouraging that he has. “Have you kissed Steve?” Tony asks. If Bucky can be blunt, then so can Tony.

Bucky's expression softens, taking on a melancholy edge. “Nah… he had other people he wanted to be kissing,” he says softly. Though Tony can hear the loss in his tone.

“Did you… want to kiss him?” Tony asks and Bucky snorts.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, quiet. “Since the day I laid eyes on that little punk… Never could get around to ask if he was inclined… could never work up the courage. Then Carter came along, and wow! How was I supposed to compete with her, right?” He sighs. “I've… I've made peace with that. Not going to say that I don't… still want to kiss him, but I know he's my friend and that's all I need. You don't have to be worried about that, Tony.”

“Wasn't worried about that,” Tony says, twiddling his thumbs. “So Steve doesn't like men, huh?”

Bucky shrugs. “I never got around to asking him that either. Wasn't exactly appropriate at the time… and since… since we… thawed out, he hasn't really been home, so… I always just assumed he wanted to get to know dames. Seemed most likely… always talked about women not wanting to dance with him.” He leans back against the headboard, thoughtful. “Never minded fa-- homosexuals, you know? But never told me how he was himself. He jumped on Carter so fast… and he had such luck with dames after… after he changed. Why…? Do you… do you like Steve?” Bucky's tone is both expectant and hesitant.

“I mean… that's what I wanted to talk about,” Tony says. He reaches over to Bucky to quell the dark expression on his face. “I… I like you both, I guess. More than just wanting to… to...” He doesn't know if Bucky would understand the term 'bang' and he doesn't want to say sex while in a bed with Bucky. Even if sex was what they almost had the night before. He feels like a child, so he just gestures at Bucky's crotch vaguely.

Bucky looks comically down at his crotch and then back up. “Okay,” he says, confused. “So by 'not casual' you mean you want to date,” Bucky parses slowly. He doesn't look disgusted yet, just confused. “With both of us.”

Tony collapses onto the bed, groaning. “Yes, that's what I mean. How far away should I stay away from you now? Do you want a restraining order? I can file for one of those for you. You can just forget last night happened, I wont talk to you about it. In fact, I won't talk to you at all. It'll be like I'm never here.”

“Tony,” Bucky calls softly, and reaches down and pulls Tony up, pressing him close. He presses a soft, dry kiss to Tony's lips, smiling as he pulls back.

“I've wanted to kiss Steve Rogers since before I knew exactly what kissing was… You don't ever quite.. . get over that. The fact you do too just gives us something in common,” he says. “I don't… I don't know how Steve will react. He won't mind me and you, I'm sure… Not like he's gonna get jealous. I just… is it… an all or none type thing? Do you still...”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes!” Tony near shouts. “Bucky, I want to… to date you… or 'make time' with you or whatever you want to call it.” Still, he can't help the disappointment blooming in his chest. Why couldn't the gay have been contagious and infected Rogers too? Life was a very unfair thing. At least Bucky and Tony could wallow in their unrequited love together. “Just… can you please not tell Steve? I'm not… I'm not sure I could look at him if he knew how I felt. I'm on his bad side already.”

Bucky nods, but looks somewhat confused. "I won't tell him... I don't... I don't know if I could look at him either. But where'd you get the idea you were on Steve's bad side?"

“Have you seen the way he looks at me?” Tony asks, Bucky scrunched his nose in confusion. “He looks at me like everything I do is an insult to freedom itself.”

“What?” Bucky asks incredulously. “I think… I think that's just his face.” Tony gives him a look that communicates exactly how crazy he thinks Bucky is.

“He gets all ooey gooey and soft when he looks at you!” Tony defends adamantly.

“Yeah, well, I've known him since he was six. He's just got this… resting bitch face, I think. He was doomed from the start, with that wrinkle between his eyebrows. I swear he's had that since the day he was born. He's got a pouty lip, too, makes him look disapproving. Like he was born to pick fights,” Bucky explains, chuckling.

“Doesn't explain why he looks at you are actually a sleeping puppy,” Tony replies, crossing his arms and swiveling away. “You're cute, Bucky, but you're not that cute.”

“I think I am that cute,” Bucky says, pressing into Tony's side. “'Think what you're seeing is nostalgia, more than anything… and Steve was always really hard on Howard.” Tony stiffens at his father's name and Bucky tightens his grip perceptively.

“It was… it was a joke, mostly...” Bucky is quick to assuage. It doesn't help much with Tony. “You… you look a lot like your dad, so… he might forget sometimes.”

“Can we not talk about my dad while we're in bed together?” Tony says, forcing himself not to pull away from Bucky.

Bucky's eyes widen and he frowns slightly. “Oh! Yeah, alright.”

Tony looks away from Bucky's guilty stare, thinking, before looking back up at him. Bucky and Steve didn't know his dad like he did. His father had always been better interacting with people who weren't Tony.

“Can I kiss you?” Tony says, desperate to change the subject. And to kiss Bucky, but that's besides the point. “I can do that now, right?” Tony is unsure if they have made it official or not.

“Yes, Tony. You can kiss me,” Bucky snorts. He acts like he has more to say, but Tony doesn't let him. He grabs Bucky's face in both hands and crushes his lips to Bucky's.

Bucky's arm tightens around Tony's waist, keeping him close as he explpores Tony's mouth with his tongue. Tony's arms loop around Bucky's neck and he clings, letting Bucky control the kiss, even though Tony initiated it.

Once Bucky pulls away, Tony is flushed, lips tingling and kiss swollen. Bucky kisses the junction where Tony's ear meets his jaw before releasing him. “You should probably shower,” Bucky says softly. “Worked up a sweat last night.” He winks and that does things to Tony's stomach.

“Join me?” Tony asks. He is perfectly aware he is probably moving too fast, but he can't help himself. Bucky is intoxicating.

Bucky's eyes flick to the side and he takes on an expression Tony doesn't like. Something between self-consciousness and guilt. “Not… not yet,” he says, still not meeting his eyes.

Tony thinks back to how Bucky wouldn't let Tony take his shirt off and shrugs. He files the worrying behavior away to be examined later. “Alright,” he acquiesces. “Not yet.” He gives Bucky a flirtatious smile. “Next time.”

It doesn't seem to assuage Bucky's worry, as his expression crumples, before he smiles tightly. “Yeah...” Bucky says. “Maybe.”

Tony chews his lip and gathers his clothing off the floor, making his way into the room's attached bathroom. He thought confessing to Bucky would make him feel better, but now he has worry gnawing at his chest instead of sadness. He doesn't bother locking the door, just in case Bucky changes his mind, or needs something.

Pulling his shirt over his head, Tony looks in the mirror, fingering the place where his arc reactor sinks into his chest. The places where the palladium poisoning rose to his skin is still black around the housing, tattooing the network of scars blooming out from it with a dark latticework. He isn't self-conscious about it anymore, least of all in front of Bucky, but he remembers the feeling. He used to think the scars made him ugly, like his past. They still aren't pretty, his past or his scars, but he knows Bucky wouldn't care. He wishes Bucky would treat himself the same way. Tony isn't about to say that he likes Bucky's missing arm. It makes him look vulnerable, but it isn't ugly. It isn't anything.

He showers quickly, and when he emerges, dressed and looking decidedly like he hadn't gone a bender a few hours ago, he finds Bruce sitting with Bucky. Bruce looks up at him, the soft smile he was giving Bucky falling away to a disappointed, grim line. Tony swallows.

“Hey Tony, we thought you fell down the drain,” Bucky says, oblivious. Tony's eyes fall onto the first-aid kit at Bruce's feet and the new bandages around Bucky's arm.

“Nope,” Tony says, eyes flicking from Bucky to Bruce and back. He is in a lot of trouble if Bruce's expression is anything to go by.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Tony?” Bruce asks, portraying calm, even when it's clear he is not. “That way we can give Bucky a little privacy to get dressed.”

Tony nods dumbly, following Bruce out into the hallway. Once there, and sufficiently out of earshot, Bruce starts talking.

“What happened last night?” Bruce hisses, Tony flinches.

“Nothing! We've been sleeping together… er… sharing a bed since Steve left. It helps with his nightmares,” Tony says, rubbing his shoulder.

“So I guess he gave himself the hickies on his shoulders?” Bruce asks, and Tony looks sufficiently scolded.

“Oh,” he says. Bruce is practically green and Tony doesn't think it's with envy.

“Yeah, 'oh.' You were supposed to talk to him, not have sex with him,” Bruce says, running his hands over his face.

“We didn't! We just… heavy petting, that's what it's called, right?” Tony is quick to defend. “We didn't even get naked...”

This does nothing to remove the exasperated expression from Bucky's face. “What about Steve?” Bruce asks.

Tony swallows, that familiar disappointment welling in his chest. “I… he doesn't like men.”

Bruce doesn't miss a beat. “And did you ask him?”

“Bucky said so. He said Steve was only ever interested in woman,” Tony replies, the sadness clear in his voice.

“Did Bucky ask Steve?” Bruce asks. Tony shakes his head. “Until last night, you didn't know Bucky was interested in you. How could either of you possibly know what Steve's preferences are if you never asked him? The forties weren't exactly an open time.” Bruce expression softens some. “There isn't any use in giving up before you even ask.”

Tony nods. “Does this mean no sex with Bucky until we ask Steve?” he asks, because he is genuinely at a loss.

“Oh my god, Tony,” Bruce sighs. He pinches his nose, disturbing his glasses. “Preferably…? But I can't tell you what to do, Tony.” He starts walking back towards the room. “It would probably be best that Steve didn't find out about your relationship by walking in on you,” Bruce advises.

Tony stares after Bruce forlornly. Forget about escaping the cave, inventing a new element, defeating Loki, this was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done.

  
  
Tony had sent a driver, Steve noted sadly. It is his personal driver, Happy, so that makes it a little better, but Steve had wanted to be greeted by Tony himself. It would feel a lot more like coming home. Still, Steve greets the other man holding the little sign with 'Captain America' scrawled across it in Tony's messy handwriting kindly.

“Captain America?” Happy asks, smiling knowingly at Steve.

“You got that right,” Steve says, smiling back. “Was that… was that Tony's idea?” The presence of the little sign has earned them a bit of attention even in the Shield lobby.

“Sorry, Boss said it'd be the best way to get your attention,” Happy replies, sounding sincere. He ushers Steve out of the Shield lobby and into one of Tony's immaculate luxury cars. He opens the back door and Steve slides in, sinking gratefully into the plush seating. He spreads out, sprawls, until his knee hits someone else's. Then he realizes he's not alone in the back of the car.

There is Tony sat across from him, black slacks and a peach colored dress shirt with the top three buttons undone, casual. He is a sight for sore eyes, and in between being surprised, Steve can't help the natural smile that makes it's way onto his face. The person in the next seat makes that smile turn into the grin. Bucky is there, a larger pair of sunglasses over his eyes and covering the tops of his cheeks, over sized sweatshirt dwarfing his frame and a small smirk twisting his lips.

“Hey, Steve,” he greets. “How was Cambodia?”

“Hot and awful,” Steve says honestly. He hopes the way he feels doesn't show in his eyes. “We're going to… have to talk about what I found.”

Tony looks interested, but waves a hand. “Later. First we're getting you back to the Tower. You're going to shower, so you smell less like the stuff they use to wax the helicarier's floors and you're going to eat something that isn't high calorie protein bars.”

“I like the sound of that,” Bucky agrees. “Good call.” They grin at each other and Steve is warmed to see them getting along.

“I'm not going to argue,” Steve says, leaning farther back into his seat. He must fall asleep, because the next thing he knows, Bucky is gently shaking him awake.

“We're home, Steve,” he says softly. “Come on. You can sleep once we're inside.”

Tony is chattering away with someone in the background and Steve mutters something vaguely insulting to Bucky, but Bucky only laughs. “I only got one arm, Steve, you're going to have to help me out here.”

That gets Steve up and moving and into the elevator, mostly leaning on Bucky. He registers, vaguely, Tony coming in after them. He can see between the blinks of his heavy eyelids that Bucky's feet are mostly healed and he is no longer walking with a limp. Bucky feels somehow stronger under him too.

“You're feeling better?” Steve asks, rolling his head to look up at Bucky. “Your feet look better.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “Say what you want about the serum, but you can't beat it's healing, huh?” Bucky says conversationally. Steve nods and yawns against Bucky's shoulder. “Did you sleep at all during this mission?”

Steve shakes his head this time. “Couldn't sleep. Not in the field, not even at Shield.”

Bucky's grip tightens on him a bit and Steve watches he and Tony exchange a look over him. “You have some catching up to do,” Bucky says simply. The elevator door opens them, and Bucky gently directs Steve to his bedroom.

The bed looks heavenly, made up with fresh dark blue linens and fluffed pillows, one corner of the comforter and sheets turned down invitingly. Bucky practically dumps him into the bed and moves to step away, but Steve drags him down.

“You look tired too,” Steve says, projecting the worry in his voice shamelessly. “You need a nap too.” It isn't a lie, Bucky still has deep, dark purple bags under his eyes and a lingering look of exhaustion that he's had since he woke up.

Bucky turns to Tony and they exchange another look that ends with a shrug on Tony's end. Bucky climbs into the bed with Steve.

Steve can't help, but let his mind wonder at that. Why had Bucky effectively asked for Tony's approval before getting into bed? Why was he hesitant in the first place? Bucky was never the person to deny Steve anything he wanted, least of all a nap together.

Unless Tony had said something. Maybe he had found out about them sharing a bed and had been rude to Bucky.

“Goodnight my little super soldiers,” Tony says. It sounds condescending to Steve. “I'll wake you up in about four hours or so for Chinese takeout.”

Bucky nods and waves him off, while Steve busies himself with staring at the ceiling, worry twisting his gut.

Once the door closes, his view is blocked by Bucky's face. The man is leaning over him, head cradled in his palm. “Thinking too much,” Bucky accuses. “Save the thinking for after you've slept.”

“How were you while I was gone?” Steve asks suddenly.

Bucky looks thoughtful, chewing his lip. “Okay… forgot how wrong it felt not having you around,” he says. The words are too careful and too reserved. “I missed you, if that's what you're getting at.” He smirks.

“Tony wasn't… mean… to you?” It feels like a childish question, but Steve has to know.

Bucky laughs, leaning his head against Steve's shoulder. “No. He was nothing but hospitable… more than. We even made you something.”

“We? You helped?” Steve asks.

“Don't sound so surprised,” Bucky says, feigning offense. “Tony did the making part, I did the designing.”

“Oh no,” Steve quips with mock forbearence. “It's the suit, right? I'm going to have to wear that out, aren't I?”

“Well, you don't have to, but you'll hurt Tony's feelings,” Bucky warns. “Don't know why you wouldn't want to, I designed it,” he says with self assurance.

“Bucky, your ma picked your clothes for you until you were twenty-three,” Steve says skeptically. “And then I did it for you.”

Bucky frowns at him. In truth, Buckt is not fashion challenged, he just has a bad habit of picking one color and sticking with it. The year he moved out with Steve, almost his entire closet consisted of the same shade of blue. Not that his wardrobe was particularly expansive at the time, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was wearing the same shirt all week.

“Not everyone can be an artist, Steve,” Bucky says defensively. “Not like I had much room to mess up, Tony was adamant about the red, white and blue.”

“And you weren't?” Steve asks with a smirk. He knows Bucky thinks the uniform is ridiculous, and is thus that much more insistent he wears it.

“Didn't argue too much. Don't care if it's pink and purple polka dot, so long as it protects you,” Bucky says thoughtfully. The sentiment isn't unexpected, but it warms Steve from the tips of his toes to his ears. “And it will, Tony let me shoot at it without about thirty different guns.”

Steve worries about Bucky handling guns when he is down an arm and still healing, but doesn't voice it. That wouldn't earn him any points with Bucky and the man doesn't need reminding that he's vulnerable. Still, he worries. When he is working for Shield he can't be there for Bucky, but he has to work with Shield for Bucky's sake. He is worried his friend will slip away from him while he is gone. He is worried Shield will strike when Steve is not there. He is worried he and Bucky will grow apart more than they already have.

Bucky jabs him in between the ribs with his fingers. “Get some sleep, Steve,” he says knowingly, as if he can see the gears turning in Steve's head. “We're okay. Nothing happened while you were gone.”

It rings a little hollow in Steve's ears, but he reneges. Bucky rolls off of him and tucks himself near Steve's side, stump angled away from Steve. Steve won't have any of that, and rolls onto his stomach, pillowing in his head on Bucky's shoulder, arm thrown haphazardly over his midriff. Bucky relaxes slightly, and Steve waits until he drops off to sleep before following.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I have a tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	17. A Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner time, bedtime and sexy times, all in one convenient chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm one day later than I intended to be, which is better than one week, or two weeks, so I think we're doing well!
> 
> The title comes from the Avengers soundtrack.
> 
> No real warnings for this chapter, other than the fact that there is sex in this chapter. Maybe a warning for, like, semi-public sex... Watch it be 16 more chapters before there's more.
> 
> Thank you all for your feedback!! It's really motivates me and makes me excited to update when I have time. I hope you enjoy!

As far as Tony and Jarvis are aware, Steve and Bucky had a pretty uneventful rest, dreamless and still. According to Bucky, Steve slept like a log, and when Tony came in to rouse them, he was even reluctant to wake them up. It was actually pretty cute, though Tony would never admit if asked. Even cuter was the way Steve trudged around in a drowsy haze that Tony had never seen him in before. He would lean his head on anyone who stood close enough, even Bruce, who looked wholly uncomfortable.

“He was always like this after naps,” Bucky had said, smiling fondly from his space on the couch while Tony instructed Jarvis on what to order for food. Tony didn't get to ask much more because Steve lumbered over and buried his nose in Tony's shoulder, groaning loudly. Tony's elation at having Steve so close must have shown on his face, because Bucky smirked at him knowingly.

Apparently, all it takes to pull Steve out of his zombie haze, is food. Thirty minutes into dinner and he's reporting to Tony like he is his commanding officer.

“Natasha isn't who we think she is,” Steve says seriously.

“I'm not surprised. She is a spy,” Tony says bitterly. He won't tell Steve about how he learned that lesson the hard way. Mostly because it involves telling Steve he had almost gotten intimate with Natasha and he still wants a chance with the guy. Best to keep his playboy past far removed.

“No… no… I...” Steve goes pale and starts pushing around his rice with his fork. “I don't think she was there for the same reason I was… _I_ don't think I was there for the reason I thought I was.” He looks completely sickened by this thought. “You saw the file, we were supposed to go destroy some weapons stores, wound the cartel. We didn't destroy the weapons, Shield took them.”

“You're surprised? After what we found on the Helicarrier?” Tony asks, not unkindly, just surprised. Steve seems to take it wrong, though, frowning darkly at Tony from across the table. “Shield isn't going to give up a free supply of weapons, no matter where they came from,” Tony plows on, despite Steve's uhappy glower. “I'm more interested in Natasha. Why was she there? Other than to deliver Shield free weapons?”

“She killed someone in cold blood,” Steve says bluntly, now pointedly refusing to look up at Tony. Bucky makes a pinched kind of expression. “He was unarmed and begging for his life. I didn't agree to assist an assassination.” Steve goes quiet and dark, setting his fork down.

Bucky speaks up. “Wasn't your fault, Steve,” he says firmly. “You couldn't have known.”

“Coulda' stopped it,” Steve says bitterly.

Apparently this is a sore spot for Steve, not that it's hard for Tony to understand. Steve's all about fairness, justice and everything that comes with it. Even if it's the harder fought path. There's no way he would agree to killing someone who's unarmed and unprepared, no matter how many benefits it presents.

“Shoulda', coulda', woulda',” Tony says brusquely, the only way he knows how to deal with this. “Natasha wasn't your responsibility. You didn't tell her to pull the trigger.”

“I helped her get there,” Steve argues.

“She would have gotten there with or without you. Shield wants someone dead, they're dead.” This has the opposite effect Tony intends. Steve looks anxiously towards Bucky, then back at Tony, eyes wide before his brow furrows.

“Then how are we safe?!” Steve near shouts. “How am I supposed to know that they aren't going to send me out and kill you and take Bucky while I'm gone? How do I know I'm gonna come back to a tower and not a pile of rubble?”

Tony has a moment to fill touched that he is part of Steve's worries, before what he says actually registers. “You give them a reason to keep you alive. And I have plenty of reasons. The fact that ninety percent of their tech was built by me and I have the best stuff on the market. I'd be pretty useless to them dead, and I'd be more than a thorn in their side against them. They'll leave Bucky and I alone as long as they need me.”

Steve goes silent, though there is still something dark in his expression. “That won't always be the case,” he mutters after a few moments. But there's nothing they can do, goes unsaid.

Tony can understand Steve's helplessness, felt the same thing when he was dying. But Tony can handle this situation. Shield isn't inside him, pumping poison through his veins while it works to keep his heart from shredding apart. Tony was prepared for this, knew what Shield was, what it was going to be and wormed his way in. Shield might have them cornered, but Tony always has been good at working his way out of tight spaces, usually explosively and in a way that made news headlines. He just wishes Steve would trust him. Allow Tony to take charge and get them out of this.

“I've got this handled, Cap,” Tony assures. “Got Shield under my thumb. Now eat your sweet and sour chicken or I'm going to eat it for you.” He brandishes his chopsticks threateningly and Bucky snorts when Steve fixes Tony with a flat look and shovels in a mouthful of rice and chicken.

Tony reaches over and plucks a piece of zucchini off of Bucky's plate, who in return steals a forkful of Tony's rice. Steve, apparently encouraged by Bucky's cheeky behavior, stabs his fork into Tony's vegetables, catching a few on his fork, before sticking them in his own mouth.

“That's not fair, you two heathens are using forks,” Tony says, scandalized. Despite his words, he is able to scoop up a large portion of Steve's chicken and shove it gracefully in his mouth. This prompts Bucky to steal three of his mushrooms, which is no great loss since they aren't his favorite anyway.

Over time, it becomes less stealing and more sharing. Tony pushes his mushrooms onto Bucky's plate. Bucky gives Steve his water chestnuts and Bucky can take the more exotic of Steve's vegetables without consequence. Steve isn't too reluctant when Tony takes a piece of his sweet and sour chicken anymore.

That night, Steve goes back to sleeping with Bucky. Tony said he didn't mind, mostly because neither he nor Bucky could decide how to break the news to Steve that they decided to be in a relationship. Tony is going to be up all night anyway, parsing through the information Steve brought back. It doesn't seem like a lot of info to Bucky, but he knows Tony can make a lot out of little.

Despite Tony's consent, Bucky is nervous in bed with Steve. Steve is clearly anxious, but for completely different reasons, fiddling with the bedding, eyes fixed on a distant point that indicates he is thinking long and hard. He and Tony are going to have to talk about how to handle Steve when he is like this.

Bucky places a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder, rousing him from his thoughts. “Steve, it's okay,” he says, quiet and gentle. “It isn't your fault, and everyone is fine.”

“She executed a man and she knows about you,” Steve says, distressed. “She could have told them already, that you're awake...”

“They're gonna find out anyway. We start barring their doctors, they're gonna get suspicious,” Bucky says, nervousness forgotten as he leans up and sits next to Steve, bumping their knees together. “Best we can do is head them off, figure out what they're planning and get one step ahead.”

“Bucky, I feel like we're already ten steps behind them. Especially if they already know about you.” Steve wraps his hands around Bucky's shoulders and pulls him into a hug, Bucky rubs his back.

“Can't do anything about it now. Best we can do is the best we can do,” Bucky says sagely. He is quite familiar with this helpless foreboding feeling, he knows the best way to deal with it is to solve the problems they can solve.

“Do you think Tony's right? That he has Shield where he wants them?” Steve asks, pulling away to look in Bucky's eyes.

“If I've learned anything from these last few days with him, it's that he's cokcy, but he has a reason to be. He's smart, Steve, maybe smarter than his dad,” Bucky says reassuringly. “Unlike his dad, he isn't just blowing smoke with nothing to back it up. He's got Shield somewhere, maybe not right under his thumb, but its better than nothing.”

“Howard didn't blow smoke--” Steve begins to say, but Bucky just quirks an eyebrow at him and he shuts up.

“He used to say Hitler owed him thirty dollar,” Bucky says incredulously.

That gets a chuckle out of Steve. “That was a lot of money back then,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I don't want to lose you. I thought… I thought since you were here, I wouldn't have to worry, but now--” His voice cracks and he has to take a few deep breaths. “Now there's no way to know. It's like the war all over again. There's no guarantee.”

“How do you think I feel?” Bucky says, pushing away from Steve. “You got the enemy against you and watching your back,” he says harshly. “'Least I got someone I know I can trust with me. Now we don't even know about Natasha. Or anyone else, for that matter. You're out there blind and you have to watch the people who are supposed to be watching your back, so they don't stab it.” He reigns himself in, fingers twisting in the blanket. “Should be worrying about yourself, you punk. Not me. I'm fine.”

Steve nods and looks away. He still has that stubborn frown firmly affixed on his face, though. The frown that says he will be worrying about Bucky's ass more than his own, regardless of what anyone says.

Bucky grabs Steve's shoulder, turning him towards him, so he can fix the other with a serious look. “Please, Steve. Focus on keeping yourself safe. It's not going to do anyone any good if you get hurt… or killed in action.”

“Then the same goes to you, Bucky,” Steve shoots back stubbornly. “You're not always going to be a secret, and once they… once they find out about you… they may send Natasha or Clint, or hell, an army after you… you know what Tony said...”

“We've gone against assassins and armies before,” Bucky says. “Won both those times too.”

Steve chuckles breathlessly and leans his head against Bucky's shoulder. “They… they weren't like Shield...”

“They were Hydra, they were exactly like Shield, just Nazi flavored,” Bucky states. “That's why you gotta be careful, but why I'm not tying you down and keeping you from going. We beat Hydra, we can handle Shield.”

“We died when we beat Hydra,” Steve says, grasping tightly to Bucky's shirt.

“No we didn't,” Bucky blurts, sounding sure. Of course, everyone they knew had died or was close to. The war had ended without them and everything had moved forward. It took seventy years, but they made it. They weren't stuck in the past, they were making a new place in the future. They had the ability to because they weren't dead. He pulled away, staring into Steve's eyes. “We aren't dead and you need to act like it.” He drove a finger into Steve's chest. “You need to promise me. You're on the field, that's where your mind it. Tony… I trust Tony. I don't know what he's planning, but… he cares about us, Steve. He really does. More than I think you understand. I think it's… it's new to him...” Steve snorts and Bucky glares, crossing his arms. “If you'll stop being an ass. I think it's new to him, so he doesn't… doesn't know how to handle it.”

Steve softens somewhat. “You'd know more than me,” he says quietly and Bucky's chest twists. Did Steve already know? “You did spend a lot of time with him while I was gone… I should… thank him for that.” Bucky relaxes.

Steve lays down then, pulling Bucky with him. “Let's get some sleep,” he says. Bucky goes easily, burrowing himself into Steve's familiar warmth.

He waits until they are settled before he says anything, tucked up against Steve's chest like a child. “Please give Tony a chance, Steve,” he says, soft and quiet. He knows he doesn't have to fight Tony's battles for him, but he couldn't take it if the two people he loves most in life were so cruel to each other. “He's not anything like Howard when you get down to it, but… that's not a bad thing.”

“I… I know...” Steve says, just as quiet. “I just… he looks so much like him… and he's so… so flippant. Like nothing is serious and...”

“And you don't?”

“I know when it's appropriate,” Steve says with a frown.

It's Bucky's turn to snort now. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve huffs. “Fine, I'll try,” he says. Bucky grins and nods against Steve's chest.

 

Steve's information helps Tony answer a few questions, but uncovers thousands more. Shield is definitely divided up, by levels, but also in small parts within those levels. There are people in R&D assigned to benign public projects, some devoted to secret projects and then whole sectors that are just unaccounted for. More than that, there are employees listed that aren't actually working for Shield, some are even listed as KIA. One of those, is on Steve's tactical team and they aren't Natasha.

It's half past six in the morning and Tony has uncovered a hornet's nest of secrets. He stares over the files, feeling pressure build in his chest. He had worked for these people, and he can't even be sure they're benefiting him, let alone the public.

Tony downs another cup of coffee and heads to the gym before the pressure can strangle him. He is already breathing hard, if he didn't know better, he would think that Shield had implanted a trigger in his brain to kill him when he starts doubting them. He knows Bucky works out when he is like this, so maybe the same will work for Tony.

When he stumbles into the gym, heart still pounding, he couldn't be happier to see the other occupant. Bucky is lying on the floor doing sit-ups. He has a fine sheen of sweat dampening his shirt and making his chest and abdominal muscles stand out under the warm lighting in the gym. He must have been working out for a while now, because the ease with which Bucky does sit-ups does not explain how damp he is.

He hasn't noticed Tony's entrance and Tony grins wickedly. He creeps forward, listening to Bucky's harsh exhales with every lift and timing his steps with it. By the time Bucky acknowledges his presence, Tony Is kneeling down, capturing him in a kiss, mid lift.

Bucky holds the position, bringing his hand up to cup Tony's jaw, tilting his head back father and opening his mouth to Tony's questing tongue. When he pulls away, Bucky flops onto the floor, smiling up at him. “Morning, doll,” he says, voice heavy with a Brooklyn accent.

“Doll? Really?” Tony asks incredulously. “Do I look like a doll to you?”

“With eyelashes like yours, it's an easy mistake,” Bucky replies, not missing a beat. “What brings you here, gorgeous?”

“Maybe I just missed you...” Tony says, feigning offense. When Bucky doesn't fall for it, he changes tactics, leaning over Bucky and bracketing his head with both hands. Maybe I wanted to practice lifting so I can pin you. With muscles like those, I'm going to need all the practice I can get,” Tony deadpans and Bucky lets out a startled laugh.

“That so…?” Bucky replies conversationally, but his eyes visibly darken with lust. “Don't gotta pin me. I'll go willingly,” he says, hovering closer to Tony. “Though I'm not opposed to being held down.”

“Wanna test that?” Tony asks with a salacious grin. “Can't just take your word for it, you know?”

“What? I ain't trustworthy enough?” Bucky says, pouting slightly with one plush bottom lip sticking out. Tony wants to lean down and nip at it.

Instead, he feigns thoughtfulness, as if having Bucky underneath him isn't doing all kinds of things to him. “Not that I don't trust you, just as a scientist, I gotta test it,” he says. He maneuvers easily, so that he is looking at Bucky right side up, swinging a leg over his hips, so that he is straddling Bucky. He lowers himself slowly, keeping himself from touching, just barely, with his elbows on either side of Bucky's head.

Bucky stares up at him, still smirking despite his position. “So, Mr. Scientist, you ready to test that theory of yours?” he asks, licking his lips.

Tony answers by capturing Bucky in a heated kiss, leaning up on his knees, to free his hands to knit through Bucky's hair. Bucky's hand comes up to clutch at Tony's shirt collar and pull him closer, arching up into the kiss and pressing their chests together.

The kiss is rather languid, Tony just running his tongue over Bucky's, across his teeth. He captures Bucky's lower lip and nips it slightly before moving on to his jaw, peppering kisses along lightly stubbled skin, while Bucky squirms ticklishly under him. Bucky tilts his head to give Tony better access, and Tony nibbles at the shell of his ear, moving behind it to kiss the soft skin there.

While he lavishes attention on Bucky's neck and shoulders, his hands wander slowly down the sergeant's body, running across his pectorals and down muscled ribs, to where the hem of Bucky's shirt rides up just slightly, running his fingers along the exposed strip of skin.

At the same time, Bucky's hand meanders down and into Tony's pants, under his underwear and onto bare skin. Tony shivers and then grunts as Bucky gives the meat of his ass a good squeeze. He leans up.

“Seriously Bucky?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow, Bucky grins and bites his lip.

“I couldn't help it! You have a great ass,” he says between laughs.

“Romance is dead, been dead. Those forties movies lied to me,” Tony says, but doesn't complain anymore than that, instead sliding back and pushing Bucky's shirt up ever so slightly to mouth at his abs.

Bucky's laughter cuts off with a gasp and a little moan, but he doesn't move to stop Tony, instead stretching out. The muscles flutter under Tony's lips, flexing just slightly. Encouraged, Tony gets a little more adventurous and dips his tongue into Bucky's navel. Bucky's entire abdomen tenses and fingers lase into Tony's hair.

“W-wow,” Bucky chokes. He is already breathless, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “That… that was weird.”

“Want me to stop?” Tony says, looking up at him. He sure hopes not, he's got his hands braced on Bucky's, frankly glorious, thighs, kneading the muscles, and he kinda really wants to get his pants off right now.

“No!” Bucky nearly shouts and Tony laughs. “J-just weird, not bad.”

“Always got to try new things,” Tony comments conversationally. He leans over to peck a kiss on Bucky's lips, before flattening himself and feeling just how excited Bucky is. “Mmm… seems like you're enjoying yourself,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah, stroke your own ego. Got me all hot and bothered, best make the most of it,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes.

“Rather be stroking something else, actually,” Tony quips smartly, and leans down to deftly undo Bucky's fly. Bucky gasps again, and pulls Tony up by the collar of his shirt, surprisingly strong for being one handed and kisses him while Tony rubs him through his boxers.

Bucky's hand sneaks back to the hem of Tony's jeans and slips them slowly over his hips, Tony aids the process by rolling his hips forward slightly, pressing their pelvises together and trapping his hand between them. Tony leans up to thrust again, but gasps into Bucky's mouth as the sergeant's hand slips down the front of his underwear and make contact with his bare hardness, wrapping his fingers around it, and rubbing his thumb experimentally over the head. Tony is quick to follow suit, shimmying Bucky's pants off his hips, along with his underwear.

They start stroking each other in earnest, it's rough going at first, but it only takes a few strokes before there's enough pre-come to slick their hands. Bucky is very vocal about his enjoyment, giving out little gasps and sighs and moans as Tony skillfully strokes him and kisses his neck and face. Tony is a little more silent, harsh pants against Bucky's lips and little grunts, but that doesn't mean he isn't thoroughly enjoying himself. Bucky is a little clumsy, but funnily enough, just having his hands on him is enough to get Tony going. He hasn't felt like this with someone since he kissed the year-long crush he had in middle school, this kind of satisfaction. Only know it feels seven times more right.

Tony has an idea, Bucky's already so vocally appreciative with just Tony's hand, Tony wants to know how he'll sound with his mouth. So he leans away and pulls his hand away. Bucky makes a confused noise when he leans back and Tony grins devilishly and kisses his way down Bucky's torso to where his cock leans against his stomach, flushed red, pre-come purling at the tip. He nips at Bucky's sharp hip bones, at the softness of his inner thighs, and noses around everywhere but his cock. He manages to suck a bruise into Bucky's  inner thigh before Bucky starts complaining.

“Aw… come on, Tony, watcha' doing down there?” Bucky whines, leaning up slightly on his bent elbow. “Got nothing to... I wanna touch you too--” he pauses, catching sight of where Tony is positioned.

“You know what I'm doing down here, Bucky,” Tony says, smirking like Bucky was before. He takes hold of Bucky's length and runs his tongue along the underside in one long motion, from base to tip. Bucky makes a long moan to match and arches, leaning back into the exercise mat floor of the gym. “You still feel like complaining?”

“Oh god, no,” Bucky says, hand coming up to tangle lightly in Tony's hair. Tony leans down and mouths the shaft, moving up towards the tip and taking it into his mouth. Bucky makes a punched out noise and arches again. “Don't stop,” he says, the end of the words morphing into a cry. “Tony!”

Tony grins and then closes his lips around it and sucks, laving his tongue around the underside. Bucky moans and squirms and calls Tony's name and it's all going straight to Tony's dick. It takes a little bit, since it's been a while, a lot of swallowing and slow coaxing, but Tony manages to work all of Bucky's length into his mouth. He rests one hand on Bucky's hip, and reaches down to stroke his own cock while he bobs up and down on Bucky's.

Bucky's had to have had this done before, because all Tony has to worry about as he deep throats him is the small, but aborted jerking movements of his hips and the light pressure of Bucky's hand on his head. He leans up and back to look at Bucky, who is completely debauched, hair in disarray, lips red and kiss swollen, eyes half open and focused on Tony.

“You enjoying yourself over there?” Tony asks, breath ghosting over Bucky's spit slick length and making his cock twitch and his whole body shudder.

“What? Am I not making myself clear enough?” Bucky sasses, though it's breathless and wrung out.

“Was just thinking you're holding out awfully long for someone who hasn't gotten any in seventy years,” Tony says thoughtfully, lazily stroking Bucky's length.

“Not like seventy years is going to dampen my experience,” Bucky says petulantly. “You gonna finish sucking my cock, or you gonna come up here, so I can kiss you?” he asks, leaning up to look at Tony again.

“Mm… You're impatient,” Tony says, but he makes his decision and swallows Bucky's cock back down. He continues to suck and lick, pull back and breath on the head and take it all the way down to the root. All the while, Bucky expresses his appreciation loudly.

It only takes a few more minutes, and Tony working Bucky over with every trick in the book, but Bucky finally starts showing signs of reaching the edge. His vocalizations get a little more frantic, a little higher and he starts babbling mixed with Tony's name.

“Tony, I'm gonna--” Bucky pants harshly for a few seconds. “Tony! Tony, I--” He tugs slightly on Tony's hair, obviously to get him to pull off, but Tony remains firmly on Bucky's cock, sucking it contently. Bucky chants Tony's name a few times before he spills into Tony's mouth. Tony takes it enthusiastically, swallowing around him until he is completely spent.

Bucky is dazed, but wastes no time in pulling Tony towards himself, giving him an intense kiss, no doubt tasting himself on Tony's tongue. He is reaching down for Tony's cock when there is a knock at the door and they tumble apart like they have been burned.

“Shit… shit!” Tony whispers under his breath. He forgot that this wasn't his private floor, and it's not like he could tell the person at the door that he and Bucky were sparing, not with how neither of them have pants and the clear bruises on Bucky's thighs.

However, when the door handle jiggles, it doesn't open and Jarvis chimes in. “Doctor Banner is requesting entrance. I took the liberty of locking the door when you and Sergeant Barnes started your… activities.”

“Oh my god, thank you. Jarvis, remind me to give you a memory upgrade or something,” Tony says, sliding his hands through his ruffled hair.

“Thank you, Sir,” Jarvis says neutrally, though there is a hint of amusement there.

Bucky starts laughing, half-way through tucking himself back in his pants. “It's just Bruce." He gives Tony an almost begging look. "You don't… think we could… keep on...”

“Doctor Banner says that he has finished looking into that project you asked him to, Sir,” Jarvis says and Bucky frowns at the ceiling. “It isn't urgent, but he reasons that you would want to know as soon as possible.”

Tony stands to go and get the door almost immediately, excitement flooding his system, but Bucky stops him. “I can't just… leave you hanging, Tony. It ain't proper!” he says, latching onto Tony's wrist. “Or… was I not... You don't...” He lets go of Tony's wrist and looks away, biting his lip.

Tony laughs. “I'll just have to take a rain check,” he says, anxious to open the door, but also to assuage Bucky's fears. He kisses him, soft and sweet. He wishes he could explain to Bucky that he is different somehow, that the same rules don't apply. That Bucky could leave him hanging for years and he would still want him. “You were great,” he assures. “Just… this is really important… And I need to hear what Bruce has to say.” He leans in close and whispers in Bucky's ear. “We can continue later, alright? Maybe in an actual bed, my bed, preferably. Where my lube and condoms are readily accessible and we can do something a little more... exciting.”

Bucky nods against him. “Gotta try new things," he parrots. He licks his lips. "I'll hold you to that,” Bucky says, still sounding somewhat insecure. Which is ridiculous because Bucky has nothing to worry about.

Tony reaches around and slaps Bucky's ass and he jumps and laughs. “Go hit the showers, Sergeant. You worked up quite a sweat.”

“So did you,” Bucky says. He starts walking backwards towards the bathroom. “Think I can smell you from over here.”

Relief floods Tony, at least Bucky isn't mad at him. Most people would be, but Tony thinks this is more important than sex. This is about making Bucky happier... and might actually result in more fun later. “Pretty sure that's you!” Tony calls after him and Bucky sticks his tongue out at him like a child.

“Alright, Jarvis, let Brucey in,” Tony says, once Bucky has disappeared into the locker room area of the gym. The door unlocks with a click and Bruce steps in, eyeing Tony dubiously. Tony almost reaches down and adjusts himself self-consciously in his pants. Almost.

“Why was the door locked?” Bruce asks, though it's clear he already knows the reason.

“I like to work out in private,” Tony says flippantly, pointedly avoiding the subject. He can deal with the ramifications and guilt of what he just did later. Now is the time to work on Project Bucky Bear. “What did you want to talk about?”

Bruce gives him a disproving look, but he continues talking. “I figured out how the connections would work… for the arm.” The last part of the sentence is whispered, even though Bucky wouldn't be able to hear him from where he is. “I know you said to send it over, but I figured you would want to come see it as soon as possible.”

“Hell yes!” Tony says excitedly, urging Bruce out the door. “Let's go! Come on!” he says excitedly.

“Do you need to tell Bucky where you're going?” Bruce asks, looking worriedly towards the showers.

“Nah! I made an appointment with him for later. Jarvis, tell him where I went just in case,” he calls, as he and Bruce disappear out the door. "Once I'm in my lab, he's welcome!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of people have been asking for Steve and Tony bonding. That would have happened in this chapter if Bucky and Tony could keep it in their pants. It will occur next chapter, I promise!
> 
> I'm also really self-conscious about smut writing, mostly because I'm ace, so I know how everything works and that it feels good, but not quite about motivations. So if it read like sex for sex's sake, I'm sorry about that. And tips and tricks to help me make it seem more genuine or smooth would be really cool.
> 
> Also, I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	18. The Mechanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony get some alone time, and it doesn't go well, but it goes better than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone. I'm finally done with this semester, so hopefully in the next couple of weeks I'll be able to update more frequently.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Some albeist language is prevalent in this chapter, but it is acknowledged as wrong and at least partially dealt with. 
> 
> Chapter title from the Iron Man 3 soundtrack.
> 
> Once again, thank you for all your feedback, kudos and everything else! I really appreciate it!! It's good motivation to get back into the groove of writing. (Once you've written three academic papers, the keyboard starts looking less and less appealing). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Steve finds himself having to resist the urge to tell Sam everything as they walk back to the Tower. He is a good man, Steve can tell, earnest and caring in ways Steve hasn't seen in a long time. He wants to tell him about Bucky and Tony and what he is doing with Shield, but he can't, not when he doesn't know if Sam is with Shield or not. It's a shame, he feels like he could really help Bucky. He feels like Sam could really help him figure out what his feelings are for Bucky… and Tony.However, they part ways outside the front of the Tower with nothing having been said, but casual conversation.

The sidewalks in front of the Tower are finally starting to get crowded again now that the roads are fixed and thus Tower is a lot more active. He makes his way into the private elevators across the busy lobby, once he is inside, Jarvis's voice startles him out of the pleasant calm he gained from running with Sam.

“Welcome back, Captain,” the AI begins formally. “Sir is expecting you in his lab for a fitting of your new suit, if you have time.”

Steve grimaces at the thought of going to see Tony alone. “What's Bucky doing?” he asks.

“Sergeant Barnes is currently speaking with Doctor Banner. He asked not to be disturbed for the time being,” Jarvis replies. Steve knows Bucky is not doing this on purpose, but it feels like it. It's like he's trying to push Steve and Tony together.

It isn't like Steve doesn't like Tony, he just doesn't get him. With Howard, he understood him, understood Howard's curiosity and need to explore, as well as his sense of humor. Not that Tony didn't act the same way, he really did, to such an extent it was disorientating for Steve, but all of this with his guarded, but cocky nature made him hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Howard was worldly, but he was also open and transparent. Tony isn't. Tony has an armor that he wears into battle and that he wears into relationships. Steve always has a hard time trusting people who can't take the suit off.

Even more frustrating is his attraction to Tony. He likes the way the man moves, his expressions, how he flits about when busy. This is something Steve adamantly refuses to think about. Just like he refuses to think about how he likes all those things about Bucky too. It's just his inner artist speaking, he tells himself. Because he and Bucky are just friends and he and Tony clash far too much to be anything more.

Regardless of his attraction to the both of them.

“Alright, Jarvis, take me down to Tony's lab, please,” Steve says, breathing out a quiet sigh. The beeping of the elevator button is Jarvis's way of confirming his request and Steve can feel the elevator shift so that it is going down. Once he arrives, he is greeted by the sound of loud music accompanied by Tony's absent muttering. Steve looks in through the clear glass of the lab curiously, seeing that Tony is working on something that isn't his suit. Or at least he hopes it isn't. It looks like a metal arm, the wrist to the fingers seem to be complete. It looks different than Tony's suit, interlocking plates forming the fingers and the underside of the hand, intricately detailed. There is also a skeletal looking rod sticking out of the wrist, possibly representing the forearm. It doesn't look like something Tony could or would wear. It sits in a brace as Tony fiddles with the multitude of cords snaking out of the wrist.

Whatever it is, Tony is completely engrossed with it, so much so that he doesn't hear Steve knock on the glass. The music goes silent and Tony looks up frustratedly at the ceiling, then turns towards Steve at the door. He hastily throws what looks like a mat over the arm. It does little to hide it's shape, and Steve hardly understands the point, he has obviously seen it already. Why does Tony need to hide it?

Tony comes over and opens the door. He is wide-eyed, but its obviously due to caffeine, not distress. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is greasy and unwashed, but almost artfully messy. He would look good in charcoal, Steve notes absently, fingers suddenly itching. “Hi, Tony,” he says instead.

“Hey, Steve, hey! Figured you'd be lapping New York, so I didn't expect you so soon. Your suit should be around here somewhere…” Tony leaves Steve at the door to sift through things, sending a stack of magazines toppling off their precarious position on the back of the couch, spilling glossy pages printed with machinery everywhere. Steve laughs, moves forward and leans down, ready to pick them up, but then Tony's hands are on his, grasping his shoulders lightly.

“Don't… No! Don't worry about that, I'll get Dummy to clean it up. Where is he?” He calls the robot's name and gets no answer, so he snaps his fingers at one he calls U and it comes over, nearly pushing Steve out of the way in its haste to complete it's task. “He'll be better at that anyway. Shit! I had it delivered, where the fu—”

“Tony, calm down. I'm not in a hurry,” Steve says. Tony does not calm down and Steve watches as the man putters around the messy lab, muttering about how he needs to clean up. Howard would have just had one of the junior techs do it, but Tony doesn't have any techs, or even maids, on this floor. Steve decides to help him look, despite not knowing exactly what he is looking for.

While Tony proceeds to climb on a workbench to search through the cabinets hung over it. Steve looks over on the couch and sees a box with his name on it, scrawled in Tony's familiar handwriting. He picks it up. “Is this it?” he asks, raising the box for Tony's inspection.

“Yes!” Tony shouts in triumph, then proceeds to almost take a header off the table. Almost, because Steve catches him before he can hit his face on the floor, across the lab in a few large strides. “Shit,” Tony curses, bracing his hands on Steve's shoulders. “I mean, thanks,” he corrects, eyes catching Steve's. Steve is sure he is imaging the red flush dusting Tony's cheeks and nose.

“Either's appropriate, really,” Steve says companionably. Tony slowly extracts himself from Steve's arms, looking dazed. “I'm guessing this is mine,” Steve says, picking up the box with one hand and showing it to Tony. Even in the box, the suit feels lighter than his other one, and he is thankful for that at least.

“Yeah, I would have wrapped it, but then you definitely wouldn't have found it,” Tony says. He takes the box from Steve and heads over to the nearest workbench, shifting most of the stuff on it to the side with a swipe of his arm. He sets the box down, then heads to the second table, where Steve saw the hand, and returns with a box cutter. “I don't know why they always box this stuff.”

“Probably so it stays in one piece instead of seven when you misplace it,” Steve says, eyeing Tony with the knife and waiting anxiously for him to trip again. He doesn't, thankfully, and slices the box open easily.

For something so light, and supposedly made of fabric, there is a lot of packing peanuts inside. Tony digs through them dispassionately, packing peanuts flying every which way and sticking to Tony's shirt and in his hair. He withdraws a folded, red, white and blue bundle and hands it to Steve. “The helmet and boots are in here somewhere, hang on.”

While Tony continues digging, Steve shakes the peanuts off the bundles and unfolds it, revealing the undersuit. The top and bottoms to the outer layer tumble to the floor. They're all slightly lighter blue than the suit he has from Shield. The undersuit is sold blue, one piece, with what feels like flexible kevlar layered over the torso, both shoulders, upper back and both thighs. The top is a lot less flexible in the armored bits, but made of the same material as the undersuit around his stomach, waist and elbows, no doubt to allow good movement. The armored chestplate has the signature star in the middle, with little red, white and blue accents reaching up from each point, wrapping under the arms, and up around the collar. The middle has the red and white stripes, from both his old suits, but that are absent from his Shield one, and he is honestly glad to see them again.

Before Steve can move his attention on to the pants, Tony proffers the helmet to him. Steve sets the suit down and accepts it, turning it over in his hands. It has basically the same design as his previous ones, blue, reaching over his eyes and just over the bridge of his nose, the A still perched on the forehead. The wings are slightly more elongated and seem to lift slightly out of the helmet. That design choice screams Bucky.

The boots and pants are pretty standard. The pants are the same blue, with a lot of the same subtle accenting as the chest plate. There's a lot of intricate stitching around the rear that makes Steve somewhat suspicious.

“Bucky helped you design this?” Stev asks, rubbing the fabric between his fingers.

“Yup! He put a lot of effort into making it as patriotic as possible,” Tony says. He sounds proud, almost, and Steve turns to see him turning on red boot over in his hands. “It isn't stealth, but… well, Bucky said you weren't really about stealth anyway.”

“I use a giant red white and blue target as my weapon,” Steve agrees. “I'm not a spy.”

Tony sets the boot down on the work table. “Well?” Tony prompts meaningfully, lifting an eyebrow at Steve.

“Well what? They're nice! I like them… you and Bucky did a good job,” Steve says, confused when that meaningful look does not leave Tony's face.

“I need you to try them on,” Tony explains. “I'm not fishing for compliments, Cap. I know it looks good. I need to know if it fits you. The body armor isn't going to do you any good if it's gaping.”

“Oh!” Steve says, brushing off the prideful comment. He cast a glance around the workshop, wondering if Tony intends him to strip down in the middle of the workshop. He has done it before, for countless examinations, but it is somehow different with Tony.

“I have a bathroom that-a-way, Cap,” Tony says, pointing and sounding amused. “Though if you absolutely can't wait to slip into your new threads, I'm not going to stop you.”

“As excited as I am, I wouldn't want to blind you,” Steve says, gathering the pieces of his uniform and heading towards the bathroom.

“Believe me, Cap, I wouldn't mind,” Tony says casually, but there seems to be something a little deeper in his tone and it makes Steve's face heat as he turns away.

Steve swears he can feel the man's eyes on him as he walks towards the bathroom, and Steve wishes he could banish the flush no doubt creeping up his neck. Tony isn't serious, he is just trying to get a rise out of him, make him fumble, make him blush, like Bucky does.

Steve wishes he could say he was quick about getting into the new uniform, but he takes his time. The undersuit fits perfectly, the reinforced kevlar bracing and strong against his skin. The other parts fit just as well, the breastplate, strong and pressing comfortably against his breastbone, and the armor of the pants, protecting and bracing his legs. The helmet has a soft interior lining, and it feels like the boots are reinforced and insulated. He is well-protected in his suit and he can feel all the effort Tony and Bucky put into it in every stitch.

He examines himself in the mirror. It's tame… without being too flashy like his USO show costume, or too different, like the Shield one. It also fills him with warmth to know it's something both Bucky and Tony made for him. For as much as he doesn't quite click with Tony, it's obvious he cares about both him and Bucky. Steve, enough that he would build him an entire suit from scratch and Bucky, because he let him help, apparently solicited him, if what Bruce said is to be believed. He smiles at himself, eyes running down the length of the intricately designed armor and marveling at the amount of care put into it.

He puts the cowl on before he leaves the restroom. When he exits, Tony is busily poking at the strange arm under the mat, without actually having moved the rug, and muttering to himself. At Jarvis's alert, he looks up and Steve is sure he is imagining the look in Tony's eyes, but he is glad for the cowl hiding his own flush regardless. Tony's eyes start at his face and meander down to his boots, making their way slowly back up again.

“Well, first off, only you could make those colors work,” Tony says, coming forward.

Steve just stutters an acknowledgment as Tony's hands hover over him and the finally touch. They start up at the straps to his cowl, checking the straps and buckles, then they move downward, clever fingers brushing over his neck, along the star on his chest, over the zipper and two his belt. Steve swallows, feeling incredibly hot all of a sudden, but Tony is nothing but concentrated and professional, checking the plating for gaps and making sure the already tight uniform is snug where it counts.

“Looks like Bucky was spot on with your measurements,” Tony says, sounding beyond pleased. “Will you be wearing her out of the shop, sir?” he asks with a grin.

“As comfortable as it is,” Stteve allows, running his hands over his own chest. “I don't think I need to walk around the Tower in it.” He unbuckles the cowl and removes it, running his hand through his now ruffled hair.

“That's cool,” Tony says, sounding distant. “Oh! I need to tell you where the sensors are and how to turn them on and off,” he says, rushing forward. “Here..." He taps a finger over the star on Steve's chest. "...is basically the command center for all the sensors in your suit. They monitor your heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure, respiration, the works...” He taps it again for good measure. “There's also a tracker in there. You can turn it off like this.” He grasps the star's left and right tips where it sticks up from his armor and squeezes. There's a small click and Tony lets go. “If it's on, Jarvis can track your stats and location. He'll be notified if it's turned off, so he knows you didn't just... drop dead, but otherwise, you won't be monitored anymore.” He looks up, meeting Steve's eyes. “Only Jarvis, Bucky and I will have access to your vital feed. I wouldn't have put it in there at all if you weren't… if you weren't double agenting for Shield.” He sounds almost apologetic and Steve brings a hand up to grasp his shoulder.

“It'll be nice to know someone has my back in the field,” Steve says, and he reaches up to turn the systems back on. It doesn't go unnoticed by Steve how Tony's eyes linger on his fingers, wrapped around the star. “I'm going to go change,” he adds, after a few moments of silence.

Tony nods and Steve disappears into the bathroom again. He takes his time pulling each piece of the uniform off, splashing water on his face and looking at himself in the mirror. Even with the help of the cool water, he is flushed, a light pink coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears and peeking out of the collar of the suit. He sighs and shakes his head. This is the first time he has really truly been alone with Tony, and it is a lot harder than he thought it would be for all the reasons he didn't think of. He is reminded of the way he first felt around Peggy, how his heart pounded and his cheeks heated up every time she so much as spared him a glance. Luckily he can banter with Tony better than he ever could with Peggy, it makes hiding how flustered he is easier.

He takes one last deep breath, splashes more water on his face and folds each piece of his uniform and stacks them, emerging from the bathroom with a sizable bundle.

Tony is sat at one of the benches, tapping away at a Stark tab and muttering again when Steve emerges. “What are you working on?” Steve asks, pulling him out of whatever he is doing on the tablet. At Tony's questioning look, he incline his head towards the table with the arm. "It seems like you're in a big hurry over it."

Tony looks simultaneously reluctant and excited at the question, weary apprehension in his eyes. “Top secret,” he says, but he is looking at Steve expectantly.

“Really?” Steve asks, walking over to the table. “Pretty bad way to keep a secret.” He normally wouldn't be so pushy, generally respectful of people's privacy, but Tony is practically begging him to push. If it really was top secret, Tony wouldn't be working on it in a transparent glass room. He grasps the rug and it stars sliding off the arm. Steve doesn't even have to pull, the surface too slick for the material to gain traction. The rug hits gleaming, a surprisingly human looking inner structure, and it obvious no one could stick their hand in it. It's definitely not a gauntlet, it looks like the hand and wrist for an android.

“Are you building a robot, Tony?” Steve asks, running a finger lightly over the surface, marring it with a fingerprint. If he was, why would he start with the arm? Steve isn't an engineer, but he is pretty sure Tony would begin working on the torso or something first, not just the left arm. “Arms… for Jarvis?” he jokes, but as soon as it comes out of his mouth, the pieces click together.

“Urm… making arms for somebody,” Tony allows. He is biting his lip, repressing a smile.

Steve isn't sure what to do with the sudden mix of emotions blooming in him. He is touched, impressed, but also somewhat offended and angry. Something dark and protective unfurling in his gut. “For Bucky,” he says flatly. “Why?”

“Why not?” Tony says. “I see a problem and I fix it.”

Steve clenched his teeth. “Bucky's not a problem!” Steve says, voice coming out harsher than he intends. Tony's face goes panicked. “He doesn't need fixing.

“No! Shit! I didn't mean it like that, I just--”

Steve cuts him off. “How the hell did you mean it?” He crowds into Tony's space, who looks completely taken aback. Steve should stop, give him the benefit of the doubt, but Bucky is already struggling, he doesn't need Tony adding to it by saying Bucky is a problem, that he needs fixing. “He… he isn't broken, and he doesn't need you saying so.” Steve drives a finger into Tony's chest, a very different gesture from before.

“Tony isn't retaliating like he did on the helicarrier, though. His arm isn't wrenched away. Instead, Tony looks hurt, mouth partially open with something he was going to say before Steve started yelling. The moment is broken when Tony's mouth snaps shut and he breathes through his nose.

“I didn't say that,” Tony says with what is very obviously forced calm.

“It sure sounds like you di--”

“Well I didn't,” Tony is quick to cut him off. He pushes away from Steve and runs a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “Jesus, Steve. Would it kill you to have a little faith in me? Or at least let me finish my sentences?” He sits on a work bench. “I don't think Bucky is broken,” he says. “Hell, I've only ever known Bucky down one arm and I… I like him just fine. But Bucky… have you been paying any attention to him? He's depressed, he feels useless, takes everything Bruce and I have to get him to do something and believe otherwise. Bucky feels broken.”

“Still… He doens't need you rei--” Steve starts to say, but his voice is softer, guilt washing through him, remembering Bucky's words from earlier.

“I'm not going to. But ignoring the problem doesn't fix it, Steve. Believe me, I'm an expert,” Tony says seriously. “Neither does talking about it, in my experience. If I just wanted to 'fix' Bucky's lost arm problem, I'd refer him to my therapist and buy him a fancy prosthetic. That's not what Bucky wants and that's not what I'm doing. With this...” He motions towards the arm. “He gets all the articulation and movement he got with his… er… lost arm, and a whole lot of other features. Increased strength, bulletproofing… I might even put something in there like Natasha's Widow Bite.”

“You're making him into a super soldier,” Steve says, crossing his arms, but deciding to let Tony plead his case for now.

“No, he's already a super soldier,” Tony says. He spits the word 'soldier,' as if it has a bad taste. “He wants to go back in the field. He wants to go out and protect your stupid ass. Beyond that, you already said I wouldn't always be here to keep him safe, so here you go, this...” he motions to the arm again. “This will keep him safe. This isn't an experiment or me trying to prove something to myself or anyone else. I'm not… Howard. As much as you seem to think so, I'm not. I am not building this because I want to see what will happen or for innovations sake. I'm building this because Bucky needs it.”

Steve nods thoughtfully. He is drawing a blank on what to say, so he stays quiet. His eyes wander back to the arm, taking it its intricacy, the amount of detail put into the circuitry. He can't quite appreciate half of it aside from it's aesthetic appeal, he isn't an engineer after all. He swallows. “I-I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Tony says firmly. “Just… tell me what you think, now that you know I'm not going to gift wrap this with a note telling Bucky how worthless he is.”

“It's… it's beautiful,” Steve begins. Tony's eyes widen and Steve can see how he bites the inside of his cheek. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“Damn right you haven't,” Tony confirms adamantly. “I'm not fishing for compliments though. What do you think Bucky will think? Is it… his style?”

Steve leans his rear against a nearby desk, shoulders deflating more and more with every word coming out of Tony's mouth. “Yeah, he'll be… yeah,” Steve says, haltingly. “He loves science fiction. Would read as many of those kinds of novels as we could afford. He'll… he'll probably jump at the chance to be… uh… a real life cyborg.”

Tony grins, positively flushed with happiness. It seems that their whole exchange has slid right off his shoulders. “Great,” he says. “Do me a favor and don't tell Bucky yet. I want to have the prototype done before I spring it on him.”

“You're asking the guy who can't lie to lie for you again, Tony,” Steve reminds gently.

“I'm not asking you to lie. I'm just asking you not to mention it,” Tony says with a shrug. “Not like he's going to ask you about it specifically. Anyway, want to see how it works?”

“It's… functional right now?” Steve asks, surprised, and Tony hops up from his position on the bench to crowd next to Steve.

“The fingers will move at least, and the neural interface is finished.” Tony pulls some kind of weird net of cables with little dots out of a blue liquid. “See, it just sticks to the skin of your neck and over your spine and measures the electrical impulses there. We're still working out the kinks in it, so it doesn't react to minute movements, but it shouldn't take long. Just a warning, the fluid is cold.” That is all the warning Steve gets before Tony is sticking it to his neck, warm fingers a distinct contrast from the slimy feel of the still wet contact points to his skin. He shivers, and he hopes Tony misinterprets it as Steve's reaction to the cold, not to the fingers at the base of his skull.

 

 

Out of all the things Bruce is expecting, it is definitely not a visit from a guilt-ridden Bucky. The man is at his door around an hour after Tony disappeared into his lab. He has one of Steve's sweatshirts on and his hair is already drying in messy, feathery wisps chaotically on the top of his head. In his one hand, he is clutching an empty coffee mug. “Tony told you, right?”

“Not in so many words,” Bruce says easily. “But you're not subtle.” He moves out of the doorway and ushers Bucky inside, feeling the tight muscles of his back even through the thick fabric of the sweatshirt. “Are you… freaking out again?” Bruce asks as Bucky stumbles inside. Bucky swallows and nods.

“We still… we still haven't told Steve,” Bucky says quietly. “And I don't… I'm already...” He lets out a sigh that stops his words, taking a deep breath through his nose. “We haven't told Steve and he's already given me a blow job and now I...”

Bruce coughs without meaning to. Tony had said 'heavy petting,' obviously they differed on the definition of that term.

“Sorry… sorry, you don't want to hear this,” Bucky turns to go. “It's stupid. I shouldn't be...”

Bruce is quick to grab his wrist, catching the coffee cup before it can clatter to the floor when Bucky loses his grip on it. “It's not stupid. You came for tea, right? I was just about to make some.”

Bucky follows reluctantly into the room and settles at his place at the counter. “So you haven't told Steve yet. There'll be time to,” Bruce begins. Bucky needs a different approach than Tony. Tony has all the tools he needs to tell Steve that he is in a relationship with his best friend and that he wants to be in one with Steve as well, but for all Bruce knows, Bucky still believes homosexuality is wrong or needs hiding.

“No… but… it's just… Steve's always been the first person to know, even before my ma-- my mother,” he explained, fiddling with the handle of his mug. “I can't… I can't tell him this time… not about this… not with how I… I feel,” he says. “And it'll… I think it might make him like Tony even less and I don't think I can handle them fighting all the time.” Bucky looks away, at a loss for words.

“He doesn't dislike Tony. He just doesn't understand him that well. That will change as he gets to know him, I'm sure. Tony is… hard to warm up to,” Bruce says, speaking from experience.

“I like him just fine,” Bucky says petulantly.

“He also gave you a blow job,” Bruce points out bluntly, and Bucky chokes and flushes.

“I liked him before that!” Bucky asserts. “Not that… not that the fact he's so good at that doesn't help...”

“I… didn't want to know that,” Bruce admits honestly, but he can't help the small fond smile. “Steve will warm up to Tony eventually. They're a lot more alike than either of them think.”

“Right?” Bucky agrees, gesticulating with his one hand. “But I'd like that to happen before he finds out Tony and I are… are getting fresh.”

“You don't think he would be okay with it?” Bucky asks curiously, pouring water into his electric kettle.

Bucky sighs. “Ever since… ever since I woke up without an arm, he's been treating me like… like I'm fragile. Sometimes he doesn't say it, but I can tell he's thinking it when he looks at me.” Bucky pauses to take a few deep breaths through his nose, Bruce lets him, not saying anything. “I'm… afraid… he'll think Tony is taking advantage or something… Like I couldn't ward the guy off myself.”

“Then tell him it's your choice,” Bruce asserts.

“How much water does that hold for an invalid?” Bucky snaps back, voice filled with as much venom as Bruce's voice was firm.

“You are missing your arm, not your brain,” Bruce says. “You tell him that too. I might not be a real doctor, or a psychiatrist, but you are obviously thinking clearly. You know what you're doing.”

“Doesn't feel like it,” Bucky admits, resting his head on the counter. “Steve's still treating me with kid gloves, and I have to come get tea, so I don't feel like I'm going to explode.”

“That's different,” Bruce says. “Steve doesn't know any better. He hasn't ever had to do the caring for you, right? Only ever you taking care of him? He's new to it. And the tea… well, I have to drink it so I won't destroy New York, so I think you're in better shape than me.”

Bucky nods, looking exhausted. “I think… I think we should have waited,” Bucky says regretfully. “It shouldn't be a big deal… it shouldn't matter, I've done more and gone farther for less, but… Tony and I… there's more… than just us liking each other. It makes it harder to tell Steve… to include him when we're...”

“Why didn't you say something?” Bruce hedges, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He doesn't think Tony would force anything on Bucky, but he has been wrong before.

“Didn't think so at the time,” Bucky says miserably. “I think so now, though.”

“You should say something,” Bruce advises sagely. He pours some tea into Bucky's cup. “You shouldn't regret it… what you have with Tony. You shouldn't have a reason to.”

“I don't… not that… I just think it was… too soon,” Bucky asks more than says. He doctors his tea and takes a sip, visibly thinking. “Tony won't… won't mind?”

“He's going to have to be okay with it,” Bruce says, something protective and vaguely Hulk-like surging in him. “Or else he's not the man I though he was.”

Bucky nods thoughtfully, swirling his tea and takes another sip. “I'll tell him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join me on my [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/) . There's IM now, you can IM me and I can squeal, it's great.


	19. Assault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony have a talk, a lamp gets broken, and Tony has his first sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, here is another update. Sooner than last time, but still later than I would have preferred. We're getting there.
> 
> Chapter title is from the Avengers soundtrack.
> 
> Some slight warnings for this chapter: Bucky has a minor panic attack due to some bad communication. And we start delving into some MCU typical violence and such.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to leave feedback in the form of kudos or comment. I really appreciate it!

Dinner together is, admittedly, not as awkward as it could have been. Bucky is amicable with Steve, despite his guilty conscious and Tony and Steve are getting along markedly better than they had been. Steve even laughs at a few of Tony's jokes, letting his guard down, allowing himself to get to know Tony better. It fills Bucky with hope, watching it, and he has to keep himself from staring as the two interact. On top of the new hope, however, there is that crushing apprehension. The worry that Tony will not want him if Bucky tells him to slow down. It's never been Bucky asking for that before, it's always been the girls he was with, and if it was a man, their encounters were too short to matter. Tony is different, though. Tony is special and Bucky isn't about to jump head first into something he won't be able to pull himself out of. Sex might be casual for Tony, but it isn't for Bucky, not usually.

The looks Tony sends him over the table do not help matters. The casual glances and outright leers from the man make Bucky hot under the collar for more reasons than one. There's no doubt that Bucky wants Tony. He just doesn't want a relationship he has to hide, or be ashamed of.

Bucky gets out of bedding down with Steve right away by saying he needs to talk to Tony about something. It isn't a lie, and Steve is oddly understanding, even offering to tag along. This isn't exactly something he can accept Steve's support on, what with it being a secret and all.

When he arrives at Tony's room, the man is sat on the bed, wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, the tie undone and no shirt. Bucky's eyes catch on the network of scars crisscrossing Tony's chest, along with the light shining out directly between his pectorals. Bucky can't help but wander forward, eyes trained on the light. He had known Tony had something more than just skin under his shirt, but he didn't know it looked quite like that.

“See? You're not the only one with scars,” Tony says, beckoning Bucky forward with open arms. As Bucky comes closer, he spreads his legs apart, making a space for the man against his chest. Bucky wants to tuck himself there and not move, but instead, he resists the urge and sits next to Tony on the bed, doing his best to avoid Tony's confused gaze.

“My scars ain't so beautiful,” Bucky says on a breath, tracing the rim of the reactor with his finger as Tony flushes.

Tony brings his hands up, cups Bucky's face and tilts it towards him. He holds Bucky's gaze for a bit, seemingly speechless before he presses their lips together, arms snaking around Bucky's neck.

Bucky melts, at a loss, leaning into the other hard, fingers pressing into the muscles of his bare back. Tony grips him just as hard, tongue hot and demanding at his lips, tilting his head ever so slightly, so their mouths slot together.

After a few heated moments, Tony's hands begin to wander, trailing down Bucky's shirt and up under it. Bucky shivers, arousal, but also guilt heavy in his gut. Tony moves his attention from Bucky's mouth to his neck, he feels insistent hands pushing him down and his breath speeds up, his heart pounding, but not in a good way. It's in the way that makes his chest hurt and his eyes burn. He submits to Tony's hands regardless, laying down into the pillows as Tony continues to lavish his neck with kisses and occasional scrapes of his teeth.

Tony moves downward, pushing his shirt up, and that is when Bucky loses it. He breaths in sharply through his nose and releases it in a way that is clearly not from arousal. He freezes when Tony stops and looks at him, leaning up. He frowns, a little furrow forming between his brows. He sits back completely, studying Bucky critically. “You don't want to do this,” he states, sounding thoughtful.

Bucky sits up to follow him. “Wait… No--” he stutters. Tony grabs his shoulders, and eases him back again.

“No, you weren't into that,” Tony says. He sounds incredibly grave and somewhat guilty and Bucky's stomach twists.

“I was! I just--” Bucky continues to defend, even as Tony climbs off of him. As Bucky continues to stammer and sit back up, Tony continues to shush him and ease him back.

“Bucky! I'm not mad,” Tony interrupts Bucky mid-explanation. “Well, I am mad, but not for the reason you think. I'm mad that you didn't tell me that you wanted to stop, and I'm mad at myself for not recognizing the signs. I'm usually pretty good at this, but obviously you muck my head up in more than one way,” he says with exasperation.

Bucky frowns and looks away, feeling heavy. “I… I want to… have sex,” he says quietly, not meeting Tony's eyes. “I just… not… not right now…”

“That would have been good to know before I crawled on top of you and molested you,” Tony comments, biting his lip. His expression is dark “Next time, you tell me if I'm going too far. I won't… I can't do that to you,” he says haltingly. “If you don't want to have sex, then I don't want to have it either, Bucky.”

“But… for this morning… I felt like I should...” Bucky trails off, looking away, embarrassed. “You did… something… for me, so I...”

“What kind of outdated mentality is that?” Tony demands, flapping his hand as if to brush away the suggestion. “I thought you were a pretty futuristic thinker, on account of my dick not turning you off, but now I'm starting to rethink that...”

“It's courtesy,” Bucky defends. “You put your mouth on my dick!”

“So?! I wanted to do that! I wasn't really expecting anything in return! And if you're talking about afterward, we were flirting. Jesus Christ, Bucky!” Tony shouts, voice full of exasperation. “You telling me you expected to 'collect' from everyone you dated?!”

“Of course not!” Bucky shouts back, insulted. “It's just a saying!” Sure, they said things like that, and for some other people at the time it was an unspoken rule. The man bought dinner and the woman was expected to repay him with sexual favors, but Bucky had always rejected that thought.

Tony pauses, eyes wide and expression disbelieving. “That's exactly what _I'm_ saying!” he shouts, motioning to himself violently. “I wasn't serious! It's flirting! I assumed you wanted to do it later, sure… but it wasn't a requirement.”

“I did want to…” Bucky admits, looking away. “I just… got thinking, but it… it felt unfair just to change my mind, especially since you obviously got… ready...” he says, motioning to Tony's state of undress.

“Bucky, I took a shower, put on pants and checked that there were still condoms and lube in the bedside drawer. It wasn't exactly hours of preparation here,” Tony says, rubbing a hand over his face. “The shirtlessness was more to show you my cool fashion accessory than anything else.”

“Shit,” Bucky says, leaning himself against the headboard. He uses his hand to muss his own hair, chewing his lip. He has basically just accused Tony of being like someone he obviously doesn't approve of, and on top of that, fucked up Tony's attempt at opening up. “Shit… sorry.”

“Don't apologize. I am really tired of people apologizing to me today. Just… tell me when you want to stop. I'm not always going to be able to… figure it out, so...” He almost looks embarrassed, brows furrowed and voice quiet. Like its his fault.

Bucky resists the urge to kiss him to reassure him, as that would cause even more problems. “I… uh… about that… Bruce said I should… I should talk to you about it...” he stutters out a horrible segway, feeling childish.

“Uh-oh...” Tony says, but it isn't in earnest, a small smile curving his lips. “What's up? I'm bad at kissing, aren't I?”

“Uh...” Bucky's thoughts stall for a moment before he recovers. “Probably… a little too good,” he says, sounding more serious than he intends. “No… it's just… if we start having sex… without Steve… it feels...” he trails off, unsure of how to elaborate. “At least… even if he doesn't want to be a part of it. We… I need to tell him first. I don't… want to have to keep it a secret. I don't want to have to keep you a secret, especially now. I… My whole being awake is a secret from everyone. I don't want more on top of that and I don't want to lie to Steve.”

Tony nods, but looks hesitant. “So… no sex until we tell Steve, got it,” he says, shooting Bucky a smile that would look genuine to anyone who hadn't seen a real one.

“Tony...” Bucky says, leaning forward to finally meet the other man's eyes. “We have to tell him… anyway… sometime...”

“I know that,” Tony says, eyes fixed on his knees. “I just… Bruce says to just ask, but it's not… it's not that easy. I told you...” he trails off, looking guilty.

“I'm not saying do it right now,” Bucky says reassuringly. “But… but soon… If we wait too long and he finds out on his own...” Tony grimaces and Bucky knows he doesn't have to finish that sentence. There is no telling how Steve will react, but very few outcomes are pleasant ones.

“Yeah… yeah, you're right,” Tony says. “I… we'll tell him… soon… somehow. How do you think? Maybe we should give him a fortune cookie message, 'you're two best friends are secretly getting it on and would like you to join them. Your lucky numbers for this month is 107, 69, and 42…' Maybe I'll make him an omelet… that's usually how I announce stuff like this.”

“You are not cooking him anything,” Bucky asserts, nudging him with a foot. “You'll probably kill him.”

“My cooking isn't that bad!” Tony contends, leaning up. “How would you even know? You haven't tasted my cooking!”

“I've heard horror stories,” Bucky says, smirking up at Tony, content with falling easily back into their banter. “Also, I could smell it all the way on Steve's floor the last time you tried to make a sandwich.”

“Why you--” Tony begins, rolling over to straddle Bucky for a completely different reason than before, apparently ready to wrestle for his honor. Bucky catches one of Tony's hands with his own, and presses the heel of his foot into Tony's flat stomach to push him back a little farther. Despite his attempts to keep Tony away, the man forces his way closer anyways, but he doesn't do much other than bury his nose in Bucky's shoulder and laugh a little.

Having him so close, and not as much worry clouding his senses, he can smell a soft soap tinting the scent of his skin slightly. Some kind of spice, not too strong, but nice. As Tony runs his fingers along Bucky's arms and breathes, Bucky takes a moment to think about how he likes either of Tony's scents. This clean one and the one where he hasn't showered and smells of oil and copper filament.

They fall into silence then, but it isn't uncomfortable. Tony explores Bucky's exposed skin with his fingers, innocent and absent, surprisingly, and Bucky listens to Tony's breath. He shifts them slightly, so that Tony's head is pillowed on Bucky's shoulder and his legs are thrown over his thighs.

“You gotta go back to Steve?” Tony asks, after a few minutes, sounding slightly muzzy.

Bucky sighs. “I can't… can't ditch him. Apparently he didn't sleep at all while he was gone,” he says quietly. He wishes he could just invite Steve up to stay with them.

“Ugh… I hate sharing custody,” Tony says, sounding put upon, but not upset. As if on cue, there is a quiet knock at the door and both Tony and Bucky practically shoot apart, Bucky falling off the far side of the bed onto his ass. Tony immediately scrambles to get up off the bed as the door opens.

“Is everything okay? I heard a noise,” Steve says, opening the door in time to see Tony slide off the other side of the bed and onto the floor, followed by the bedside lamp. Bucky huffs. If they didn't already look suspicious, they sure do now.

“Get out, Steve! I'm not decent!” Tony shouts, to make things worse.

Steve loiters in the doorway, looking confused. Bucky gets up off the floor. “It's fine, Steve, he was just showing me his...” he trails off and makes a circle with his finger over his chest. “That thing.”

Steve's eyes lighten in understanding. “Tony, I already know about that,” he calls, making his way further into the room, presumably to help the man up off the floor. By the time he and Steve make their way around, Tony is already pulling a t-shirt over his head.

“You haven't seen it, though,” Tony says. “Gotta leave something up to the imagination.”

“Why did Bucky get to see it, then?” Steve asks, innocent as can be, but there's something knowing in his tone.

“I was establishing some common ground. Bucky lost an arm, I lost a sternum.” He picks himself up off the floor, but Steve still bends forward to help him.

“Be careful. There's glass,” Steve says, pushing the remains of the lamp away with his own bare feet.

“Same goes for you,” Bucky points out, pulling Steve back by the collar of his shirt before he can plant his foot right into the shattered light bulb.

“I'll get Dummy in here with a vacuum, don't worry,” Tony says, shimmying around the glass expertly. “What'd you need, Spangles?” he asks, plopping himself back onto the bed. The reactor glows faintly through the fabric of his shirt.

“I was… just looking for Bucky,” Steve says, looking away briefly, sheepish. “He said he was coming up here to talk to you… if you're not done, I can go.”

“Nah, stay, we can have a sleepover,” Tony says, it sounds a lot like an offer. Bucky knows he isn't expecting Steve to take the offer seriously, but the bed could honestly fit them all with room to spare. Bucky spares a moment to think about that, just sleeping with Steve and Tony both in one place. It gets his hopes up just enough that he is disappointed when Steve declines.

Steve shakes his head with a fond smile. “I'm sure you wouldn't want us here. Bucky snores.”

“Oh yeah, it's me who snores,” Bucky says, elbowing Steve in the ribs. “Pretty sure if we ask Jarvis, he'll say it's you.”

“Actually, sirs, both of Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers snore. I believe they call the severity of the noise you make as 'sawing logs,'” Jarvis says smartly.

Steve blinks, looking aghast. “I do not snore. Do I snore?” he turns seriously to Bucky. "I mean... I used to, but..."

Bucky is somewhat surprised that he himself snores. “You've snored since I met you, Steve.”

Steve looks unconvinced, and Tony watches them with a barely contained smile. Bucky knows that Tony has heard Steve's snoring, but he can't let on or he'll ruin his 'image.' Honestly, telling Steve he is a secret breakfast deliverer would probably only improve things at this point.

“No, but… are you sure? I snored before because of my health problems, but they shouldn't be… effecting me anymore...” Steve attempts to reason, but Bucky just rests his hand on his hip.

“Seriously? I'd say you snore louder,” Bucky argues. “Maybe you're flaunting the fact you can actually breath now.”

“What does that say about you, then?” Steve retorts, crossing his arms and he has a point, Bucky hadn't thought about that.

“I am… just making it easier for you to be sure I'm still breathing. It's purposeful,” Bucky says after a moment of thought.

Steve snorts at him. “Sure, then mine is purposeful too,” he says, quirking an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Maybe you both should sleep in here, that way I can judge if you're both doing it on purpose,” Tony suggests again, grinning stupidly. He winks at Bucky when he shoots the man a confused look.

“Tony, are you serious? You want to have a sleepover?” Steve asks, sounding equally confused himself.

Tony shrugs, still sitting on the bed. “Wouldn't offer if I didn't want to. Why not? You're all here, and I've never had a sleepover before… well, not one that didn't involve more… sexual content,” he says with a cheeky grin. “There's plenty of room, and I just told Bucky how much I hate sharing custody, so come on.” He leans back on the bed, patting the spots on either side of him. "This way we don't have to share."

Steve blinks, clearly surprised at being busted, and Tony's nonchalant reaction. "I... I don't..."

The next few minutes contain Steve carefully sweeping the lamp into a neat pile in the corner while he and Tony bantered about sleeping arrangements, Tony's intentions, and whether or not this would be blackmail material later. Eventually they settled on team bonding as an 'excuse' should they get caught by Bruce or Pepper, two people Bucky was relatively sure would not care if they caught them.

And that, after a few more awkwardly exchanged words between Steve and Tony, is how Bucky ends up squished between a clingy super soldier and a handsy inventor. Tony seemed to have wanted to be in the middle, but Steve kept refusing to get in the bed until Bucky got in and scooted Tony over to one side. Steve knew how touchy-feely he got while sleeping and apparently was not keen on wrapping himself around Tony in his sleep.

The bed was far from a tight fit, but Steve and Tony seemed determined to make it one. They were both as close to Bucky as humanly possible without touching each other, Bucky flat on his back and both of them pressed to his sides. By the middle of the night, Steve has his nose buried in Bucky's neck, hand splayed on Bucky's chest and is snoring loudly just under his ear. On the other side, Tony is tucked under his stump, legs tangled with Bucky's, hand curled innocuously in the fabric over Bucky's thigh. Unsurprisingly, Tony does not snore, but snuffles quietly where his nose is pressed against Bucky's ribs. Even though he is a little too warm, Steve's breath is ticklish against his neck and Tony keeps scratching along his calf with his toes, Bucky eventually drops off to sleep.

He wakes up at six to Tony and Steve both getting up. He knows what both of them are planning on doing. Steve will go run with his new friend and Tony will go work. He is honestly lucky that they both stayed in bed as long as they did, but he still makes a grumpy whining sound and captures Steve's wrist. “You snored in my ear all night,” he accuses. Tony peaks in from the bathroom, smirking slightly.

“Just repaying the favor,” Steve shoots back without a pause. Bucky gives him a frown in reply, refusing to let go. “Come on, Buck, I promised Sam.”

“I ain't even met Sam yet. Has Tony met Sam? Tony, do you care if Sam gets disappointed?” Bucky asks, casting a glance at the genius plaintively.

“This is the first I've heard about him. You meet him at Shield? He's probably a loser,” Tony says, playing along with Bucky's complaint. “I'll have to run background checks just in case. You know, just to be safe, maybe you should stay in bed until I get that done...” He winks at Bucky.

“Knowing you, I'll be stuck in bed forever if I agree to that,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “Sam's not Shield, I met him just before I left for my mission before.”

“He could be a plant,” Tony warns, but he obviously doesn't believe his own words. “Better stay here, just to be safe.”

Steve sighs. “Is there… is there any way Bucky could come along?” he asks, instead of answering Tony's jabs. “That way he could meet Sam…”

“Steve… I don't want to go running, I want to sleep past six in the morning,” Bucky complains. “I'm sure your new friend's swell, but he ain't swell enough to get me out of bed.” He tries not to sound petulant, but while he has been stuck in the Tower, Steve's gone out, made new friends and now he would rather go running than stay in bed with Bucky. It's a selfish thought, he can't expect Steve to stay in the Tower all the time just for his sake, but he can feel however he wants about it.

Steve, luckily, doesn't tell him he can just sleep in on his own, but they do stare at each other for a long moment, Steve deliberating guiltily and Bucky fighting down the feelings of abandonment. Bucky eventually sighs. “I'm just pulling your leg, Steve, go running with your friend. I'll go work out,” he says finally.

Steve still hesitates, loitering near the bed, as if he plans to crawl back in despite Bucky's decision, when Tony saves the day. He emerges from the bathroom again, face half-smeared with shaving soap and leans in the doorway. “It's fine, Bucky can come sleep on my comfy workshop coach if he's still grumpy.”

“Wouldn't be so grumpy if someone wasn't so keen on playing footsy all night,” Bucky says gruffly, leveling a mock angry look at Tony. Tony turns a lovely shade of pink under the white foam on his face in embarrassment as Steve turns to look at him. "I'll take you up on your offer though." He yawns, already gathering up his pillows.

It works well enough that Steve coughs and assents, heading out the bedroom door with an explanation of going to get ready himself and an estimated time of return. Around fifteen minutes later Jarvis sends them a notification that Steve has left the building.

Tony returns from the bathroom, not dressed, but smelling of shaving soap and deodorant. He sinks into bed next to Bucky and eyes him. “How about it, sunshine? You wanna go sleep on my couch?”

“Don't suppose I could convince you to sleep in here...” Bucky says, peering at Tony with half of his face buried in his pillow.

Tony chews his lip in indecision and Bucky takes advantage of his moment of stillness, rolling over on top of him and trapping him in the blankets and pillows. “Ugh… Bucky, I want to go work...”

“No, you want to sleep some more,” Bucky corrects, planting his nose in Tony's shoulder. “You didn't sleep at all the night before last, right? What can a few more hours hurt?” he asks.

Tony sighs and groans at him. “You're awful... you're abusing your powers right now,” he complains, but melts underneath Bucky, clearly enjoying his weight against him. “Fine, but only two more hours. I need to finish my suit. You never… you never know when those aliens are gonna come back, or another jackass decides to take a shot at us.”

Bucky mouths at his neck absently, kissing along his jaw line to try and get the new tenseness to seep out of Tony's shoulders. “I think we'll be okay for a few hours, Tony,” Bucky says, rolling off to the side and nuzzling himself under Tony's chin. Tony wraps his arms around Bucky's shoulders and pulls him close, throwing the blankets over them.

An hour into their nap, it becomes apparent that they are not okay, as Tony is woken up by a woman's voice at the door. “Mr. Stark, you have a meeting at eight,” someone says. Her voice is crisp and business like, almost like a secretary, completely nonplussed to find Tony in bed with another man. She is not Pepper Pots and she has not business on this floor. Bucky flinches hard, about to sit up, but Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders, applying pressure to keep him down. Tony makes a convincing sleepy moan.

“Fuck off, Veronica,” he says, voice husky and sleep slurred. He tenses as he hears her light, heeled footsteps into the room. Bucky has his breath held, tensed and ready. “What'd I say about sending secretaries up here, Jarvis?” Tony asks, voice a bit more alert sounding.

Jarvis doesn't reply, and that's when Tony knows they are in deep shit. He slides his arm over Bucky's shoulders, touch lingering, like he's sleepily feeling along his lover, before he grabs a pillow on the other side of him and slings it at the approaching woman. It knocks a small pistol she is holding out of her hands and makes her stumble back. Tony immediately sits up and turns his gaze fully on the woman.

She isn't any secretary that Tony knows. She is wearing a black pencil skirt that stops just above her knees, matching suit jacket and white button down shirt. There is a Stark Industries badge pinned to her lapel, but her hair is cut short into a pixie cut, and it's obvious she is trained in combat. She is either military, or more likely, Shield.

When Tony sits up, Bucky sits up too, and she startles back slightly, a slight smile curving her lips. “Well that's unexpected,” she says, sounding amused. “But it makes my job easier.”

“Who are you?” Bucky demands, before Tony can act. He is already up and crouched slightly on the bed, like he is ready to jump her.  
  
“I think you know,” she replies easily. “Dr. Zola's not done with you, you know? He'd like you to come back in for an examination.”

Bucky goes chalk white at the mention of the name, lips thinning and he rocks back slightly. “Not a chance in hell,” he growls.

“You don't really get a say,” she says. She steps forward, withdrawing another gun.

“Alright, I've had enough,” Tony says as Bucky practically freezes behind him. He launches himself off the bed, armed with another pillow that he swings into her face, he follows that up with the knee to her gut that sends her sprawling to the floor. “No one invited you to this slumber party,” he says, grabbing Bucky off the bed, along with his cell from the bedside table and sprinting for the door.

Bucky is clearly distressed, his hand is cold and clammy where Tony is grasping it and he stumbles after Tony in some kind of confused haze. It slows them down considerably, but Tony's not about to let him go. He nearly throws Bucky into the elevator, jumping in after him as the woman emerges into the hall and fires several shots into the floor at their feet just as the doors slam shut.

He pushes a button for his workshop floor and digs his phone out of his pocket, attempting to access Jarvis manually. “They must have disabled Jarvis somehow...” Tony says, as a way to fill the silence that is filled only with Bucky's labored breathing.

“Shit… shit…” Bucky says breathlessly, stumbling back up to his feet. The elevator stops suddenly, jerking him back down onto his ass as well as Tony. There is a bang as their pursuer’s feet hit the top of the elevator. A few shots sink into the elevator roofing, but Tony made sure it was bullet proof, so they do nothing but make harmless pinging noises in the small space. There is the sound of shuffling up above them as the woman moves around. “Shit!” Bucky says, this time with a lot more feeling.

Tony has to agree. He isn't sure what floor they're on, or if they are between floors, and he is trapped in an elevator with nothing but a cellphone and an unarmed, one-armed and traumatized Bucky Barnes.

A scraping noise begins to echo from above them as the woman searches for the emergency access hatch into the elevator and Tony knows it won't be long before she finds it. He rushes to the elevator doors and pries them open to reveal one of the vacant living floors, the elevator just a little ajar. “Yes!” Tony shouts in triumph before helping Bucky up off the floor and through the doors.

He is in the middle of pushing the door back closed when the woman drops into the compartment, gun at the ready. Bucky tackles Tony out of the way of the shots and the bullets whiz past them, smacking into the wall behind them and spreading a blue liquid across Pepper's specifically chosen wallpaper.

“What the hell, are you packing paintballs?!” Tony asks in panicked confusion. Bucky takes a more proactive approach and charges forward, decking the woman across the face and kicking the gun across the room. He backpedals back into the room, grabs a wooden kitchen chair and shoulders Tony towards the stairwell as the woman starts to stumble back up. Bucky has a mean right hook, but he is panicked and shaky, so it is undoubtedly not at one hundred percent. Either that or the woman is somehow enhanced.

Tony runs for the stairwell and opens the door, waiting for Bucky to stumble through before slamming the door shut. Tony is about to ask what the chair is for, before Bucky smashes it on the tiled floor and uses the pieces to jam the door shut. “Come on!” he breathes once he is done.

The sprint down the stairs, Tony almost falling a few times as Bucky skips steps while still holding his hand. “The… the labs right?” Bucky asks as they make it down their fifth flight of steps. Tony is too out of breath to speak, so he just nods.

They make it to Tony's lab in record time. And Tony is not exaggerating when he thinks they just broke the world record for fastest time sprinting down steps. They nearly collapse through the lab doors, both panting and probably crying, lungs burning. Tony even coughs a few times.

“This is worse than high school gym class,” Tony pants. “I'm gonna puke.”

“Please don't,” Bucky begs with good reason. Tony is sprawled across his chest.

“I was wondering when you boys would get here,” the woman's voice sounds from one of the work tables.

“She got the elevator working,” Tony moans, rolling off of Bucky's chest to the sound of a gun cocking.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bucky replies. The first shot is fired and both Tony and Bucky roll in opposite directions. Tony dives for his suit and Bucky ducks under another shot, charging at the woman. He knocks her into a table, clamoring over the other side along with tools and unfinished projects. Tony manages to grab the suitcase holding a damaged Iron Man suit. It won't fly, but Tony doesn't need to fly, he just needs to shoot.

The face-plate is just closing over his suit when the woman deals a vicious kick to Bucky's abdomen and knocks him in the stump, making him cry out and stumble back. Before Tony can shoot her, she withdraws a small device from her pocket and presses a button, everything in the room goes dark at once, some of the light bulbs blowing out and some of the calibration equipment short circuits and pops, releasing acrid smoke into the air. Tony's suit goes dark around him and locks, dropping him to the floor and there is a sudden cold feeling in his chest. She just set off a localized emp, and the damn thing just short circuited his suit and his arc reactor.

He doesn't see it, but he hears a shot and Bucky cry out before it goes quiet again, the only sound is the woman's heels clicking against the floor. Tony gasps for breath and calls Bucky's name, attempting to force the suit's locked joints to scrabble at the floor, even as every bit of warmth seeps out of him.

Bucky doesn't answer Tony's cries, but the woman does. “Don't worry,” she says, irritatingly calm. “Your boyfriend will be fine. It's just a tranquilizer. You on the other hand...” She places a foot on the side of his suit and kicks him onto his back with surprising strength. “You're not doing so great, are you? There more to that suit than meets the eye?”

He doesn't answer, just focuses on gasping and keeping his heart from stopping. The hud starts recalibrating, the view screen lighting up and showing the woman's face. Though to her, it would look like Tony's still down for the count. The suit seems to sense that the arc reactor isn't functional and hooks into his chest, using the built in one for the suit that somehow sustained less damage, probably due to it being an older model, one that still ran on palladium. It's painful, but it's something. The light flickers on, the only source of light in the room.

“Feeling better already?” she asks, sounding almost like a mother. "Better get going then." She kicks Tony's chest plate and walks away. Tony can hear the sound of fabric rustling and the woman grunting and he can see her lift a limp Bucky up off the floor and across her shoulders in a fireman's carry. Tony hopes and prays that Bucky is just unconscious, not dead. There's some sort of liquid leaking from his shoulder and onto her suit jacket as she carries him from the room.

Tony still can't move, can't even turn his head, so he starts spitting curses, threats and promises, even as the woman reaches the glass doors. His rant is interrupted by a loud crash and she gets knocked backwards, sending both herself and Bucky sprawling to the floor. Tony can see the distinct shape of the shield sail over him before bouncing off the far wall and the muted clang of Steve catching it. Tony sends up a thank you to any god that happens to be watching them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)
> 
> btw, the Hydra agent is not meant to be anyone from the comics or MCU in particular.


	20. Hydra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain America saves the day, Sam gets introduced to the crew and they all figure out that things are a lot more complicated than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I managed to finish the chapter faster this time. Just in time for school to start. Aw... man...
> 
> A heads up though, I am starting a job this semester, so this will either make me more productive or make me really slow, I'm not sure. So either expect a jump in updates, or for things to be just as slow as last semester.
> 
> Everyone seemed to like the more action packed chapter, so I will try to work in a lot more action. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: throw away vague Hydra OC death (like that's very surprising), and mentions of panic attacks.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave me some feedback! I really enjoyed reading what you had to say this last chapter!

Steve has lapped Sam twice and is in the process of lapping him again, laughing the entire time when he gets the call. He pulls it out of his pocket, jogging to a halt as Sam comes up next to him, spitting good-natured insults between his own desperate panting. The caller ID says 'Jarvis' and Steve looks at it curiously. He has never gotten a call from Jarvis before. He didn't even know the AI could place phone calls.

He answers it and places it by his ear curiously. He is immediately greeted by a rush of static-like sound interspersed with whirs and beeps, not unheard of in a computer room from his era. Then Jarvis's voice breaks through the noise, glitchy and repeating. “A-a-accessing phone… unstable instal-al-al...”

“Jarvis?” Steve asks, brows furrowing. Sam eyes him questioningly and Steve shrugs at him, already turning to walk back to the Tower.

“S-system-m-m-m compromised. Steve Roger-s-s-s re-re-return to-to Tower immediately...” Jarvis's voice is broken by more static and beeps, a weird grinding noise as his voice glitches and stabilizes. “Poss-possible intruder-r-r-r. Im-imediate-t-t-t assista-a-a-ance requested. One hos-hos-hostile. Armed.”

The signal drops and Steve drops his phone in his haste to sprint back to the Tower. Sam is running after him, but Steve doesn't have time to explain and won't. Bucky and Tony are in danger and Jarvis is compromised. Who knows what else is?

He is back to the Tower in less than fifteen minutes, ignoring street lights and vaulting over startled pedestrians as Sam tails behind and apologizes on his behalf. Once he has barreled inside Stark Industries and collected his shield from startled security personal, he is sprinting up the stairs. He finds the thirtieth floor door barricaded from the inside with wood, the room on the inside is trashed, but empty. He turns tail and runs back down the stairs. They would have headed for Tony's lab, there is no doubt. It's where he keeps all his supplies, his suits and where the defenses are the strongest.

The entire floor is dark when Steve arrives and he can hear Tony's voice, desperate and reedy, calling for Bucky from the direction of the glass surrounded lab. He smashes his shield through the glass doors, not bothering with the handle, knocking a hunched, hulking figure back with a spray of glass.

Once in the room, he realizes that the figure was not one person, but rather a taller woman, carrying Bucky over her shoulders. He catches his shield from where it ricocheted off the wall after hitting the two of them and kicks the woman down from her half upright position with his tennis shoe clad foot.

“Stay down,” he commands, pressing his foot hard enough into her abdomen to make her cough.

Instead of struggling, she goes limp and laughs. “Just in time, hero,” she says, breathless.

Steve casts a glance at Tony in the downed and heavily damaged Iron Man suit and Bucky's unmoving body a few paces away. “Who are you? What did you do to them?” Steve demands pressing his foot down harder.

She coughs a couple times, but answers. “Just a little EMP and some advanced tranqs,” she says easily. “As for who I am… well...” She bites down and Steve hears a sickeningly familiar snap of a false tooth breaking. “Hail Hydra,” she says, before she foams at the mouth, convulses and goes still. Steve spares a moment to look at her face, still slightly smiling in a manic and familiar sort of way, before he snaps out of it and collapses next to Bucky.

He checks his pulse first, feeling it beat strong and sure under his fingers, if not a bit fast. Bucky's eyes are closed and his mouth is open with soft, deep breaths. He is definitely unconscious, not dead. Next, Steve runs his hands over Bucky's body, looking for evidence of the tranquilizer and finding it in the form of a small dark bruise and blue liquid that drips down from Bucky's skin. Just getting the liquid on his fingers makes Steve a bit woozy and he lists to the side for a second before shaking his head and wiping his fingers. Whatever it was, it's strong stuff, but not lethal. He carefully sets Bucky in the recovery position before stumbling to Tony.

“How's Bucky?” Are the first words that come out of the suit's speakers. It sounds like Tony is speaking through an old radio, rather than the crisp clarity his voice usually caries in the suit and the light in the eyes of the mask keeps flickering on and off. “Did she hurt him? Is he okay?” The suit weakly lifts a hand and Steve grabs it worriedly.

“He's-- he's fine, she just tranqed him. It's really strong, started working as soon as I touched it. He's just unconscious though… should wake up soon.” Steve starts feeling around Tony's helmet for the release hatch and finds it pressing it and easing Tony's head out of the casing.

Tony is positively white as a ghost, sweaty and sickly looking and obviously in pain. “What's wrong, Tony? What did she do? Tell me how to help you,” Steve says, urgent, but calm.

“The EMP took out my arc reactor… luckily the suit had a backup that didn't fry, but it's… it's not the best,” Tony says in a wiry voice. “I got maybe an hour on this, maybe less. The suit was already broken when I put it on and the reactor is outdated… it's gonna burn out and start poisoning me if we don't replace it.”

“Okay… okay. Where are the replacements?” Steve asks, taking it all in stride. At that moment, Sam crashes into the room, followed closely by several disgruntled security guards, all of them in various states of trying to drag him away.

“Let me go, I'm with Steve!” Sam shouts, extracting himself from their grasp as best he can to stumble more into the room.

“Sir, this is a restricted area, you can't just--” One of them pauses mid-sentence at the scene before him. “What?”

“Go,” Steve commands. “He can stay, you all go.” They loiter in the hall, all observing the mess before Tony sits up slightly.

“You heard the man, go! I can handle this, I'll explain later. You're all getting chewed out for letting someone, let alone a fake secretary up onto the living floors. So unless you want to hear it now...” Tony begins to threaten, but he doesn't need to finish. They all clear out, leaving Sam to walk carefully into the room, stopping first to check on the dead woman and then on Bucky. He whistles when Bucky's face is revealed.

“I'm guessing this is what you couldn't talk about, huh?” Sam comments.

“Never mind that, I am literally dying over here!” Tony shouts, groaning through a spasm of pain in his chest that prompts Steve to grasp his hand again. "We can do the whole revealing secrets deal later."

“Right,” Steve says. “Where are the replacements?” Sam wanders over as Tony gives Steve specific instructions for the panel in the wall. Though since the power is out, it will probably just require him to pry it open with his shield.

Steve turns to Sam, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Stay with him. Please.” Sam nods his assent and settles next to Tony as Steve stands to open the panel.

As Steve pries, Sam wiggles his fingers under the suit collar and takes Tony's pulse. “Shit, that's bad,” Sam says on a breath and Tony giggles.

“You're bedside manner sucks. Just get me a replacement and we'll be fine,” Tony says easily, batting Sam's fingers away from his neck. Steve gives a shout of triumph as the panel pops open revealing a row of darkened arc reactors, hopefully unaffected by the EMP blast.

He returns to Tony and Sam breaks away to go check on Bucky again, leaving Steve to feel around for the catches on Tony's chest plate to trigger the release. In the end, the mechanism turns out to be jammed and he uses a great amount of strength to tear the piece away. Tony cries out as Steve carefully unhooks the wires where the suit has connected to his dysfunctional arc reactor mechanism, staring in horror at the dark circle in Tony's chest.

“Okay, okay,” Tony breathes, he is gasping again, spasmodically clenching and unclenching his hands in the gauntlets. “I need you to grab the arc reactor, twist it clockwise and pull it up, for the love of God do not disconnect it yet. Pepper isn't here and you might have nice fingers, but they aren't small enough to fit in my chest.” he instructs.

Steve does as he is asked, sweating slightly in concentration as he gently twists and pulls the arc reactor up. It is connected by one cord that disappears somewhere in the dark, cavernous hole that is in the center of Tony's chest. Steve feels like he is going to be sick. He had no idea the arc reactor was actually inside Tony, that Tony had a literal hole in his chest.

“Cap, get sick later, I need you,” Tony says, catching Steve's attention again. He is shaking now, visible even though he is partially covered by the suit, and sweating heavily, his hair curling and sticking to his face. “I need you to pin--” He breaks off in a groan. “Pinch the cord at the bottom there… that's it… disconnect it, and then get the new one.” Steve holds the new arc reactor, sitting the old one gently on the floor. “Now you just… reconnect it… there you go. Fast learner, Steve, should make you do this all the time.” As soon as the cord is hooked back in, the arc reactor whirs to life, lighting up in that signature blue glow as Steve carefully twists it back into Tony's chest.

As soon as the arc reactor is back where it belongs, Tony heaves a great gasp, grabbing Steve's hands and then going limp, eyes sliding shut for a moment. Steve makes a startled noise and hefts Tony into his lap, calling his name. Tony pants for a few moments, but they are deep, healthy breaths, not the desperate little sips he was making before and his eyes roll open again to see Steve and smile.

“Hey, beautiful,” Tony greets, making Steve flush. The color is retuning to Tony's face, but he is still limp in the suit, breathing in calmly. “We just got attacked by a Nazi.”

“Yep,” Steve says, looking over Tony and to Sam who is nudging said Nazi with his foot. “Sorry.”

“Hey, you didn't bring the Nazi. It's good,” Tony says easily. “I need to finish that arm,” he says, turning his eyes over to Bucky's still form.

“Yeah… I didn't think… I didn't think it was a good idea, but now...” Despite his uncertainty, he pulls Tony in closer in some kind of mockery of a hug, even though he is still stiff in the suit. “It's a good idea.”

Tony throws a weak fist in the air and cheers triumphantly, perhaps at Steve's blessing. "I'll get working on that as soon as I can sit up on my own!"

Sam looks up, startled from his examination of Bucky. Tony waves at him and grins. “When's Bucky gonna be up? I'm guessing you're Sam?”

“Yeah, Sam Wilson,” Sam greets, sounding a bit tense. “And I don't know, man. He seems okay, though. No blood or broken bones from what I can see, and his pulse is normal. What's this blue stuff?”

“Don't touch it!” Steve shouts and Sam immediately moves his hands away from Bucky's shoulder, instead grasping his shirt to roll it up and get a better look at the damage. Steve helps Tony get out of the rest of the suit and helps him hobble over. “It's some kind of tranquilizer, it seems to work even with just skin contact,” he explains, once they settle.

Sam gets Bucky's shirt off and uses it to wipe away the excess blue liquid carefully, hissing at the deep bruise that's left on his clavicle and then cocking an eyebrow at the other, more incriminating bruises along his collar and down his chest. Steve might not have gotten much action back before the war, but he knows what those bruises are and they weren't caused by the woman's strange gun. From what he has heard, they are a little more pleasantly acquired, and he swallows, looking over at Tony and then Sam.

“Uh.. well… we're gonna… we're gonna wanna put ice on this, or it'll swell,” Sam says, breaking the silence they have all fallen into at the discovery. Tony is very subtly shifting away from Steve, but Steve tightens his grip, determined not to freak out and assume the worse, but also not willing to let the genius get away. “As for the… other bruising… pretty impressive for a guy who's supposedly comatose.” He looks up at Steve with questioning eyes.

“I didn't do it!” Steve squeaks. That seems to cause Sam some measure of alarm. “And… he hasn't been comatose since the Battle of New York… we've just been lying to the press… and to Shield, so they'll leave him alone.”

Sam sits back on his heels, sighing. “Okay… that explains why they tranqed him, instead of just… carting him off.” 'And the hickies,' went unsaid, but it is clear everyone in the room is thinking it.

“So… if he's anything like you, he should be waking up soon… I hope,” Sam finishes lamely, after everyone had sat in silence for a while, Tony sweating nervously and Steve sending him very meaningful looks. The silence is broken by Bruce crashing through the broken door as well, looking slightly green. He casts a glance around the room and calms, surprisingly, stepping over the body of the woman as he makes his way to where everyone is huddled.

As if on cue, Bucky groans, eyes scrunching and hand going for the bruise on his collar bone. He starts to roll onto his stomach, but stops when Bruce's hands come to roll him onto his back, bracing a hand on his good shoulder. “Bucky,” he calls gently, and Steve releases his grip on Tony to clasp Bucky's hand when it wanders back to the bruise.

“Jesus, what hit me?” are the first words out of Bucky's mouth. Steve helps him sit up and he blinks his eyes open. “Steve...” He blinks languidly at Steve for a few moments and then shoots straight up. “Tony!” he shouts, looking over Steve's shoulder to the guilty genius.”You're okay?”

“I'm fine, thanks to Steve, here,” Tony says, obviously resisting the urge to pat Steve on the shoulder. "Showed up just in the nick of time."

He looks over to Bruce and then over to Sam and tenses. “Who're you?” he asks suspiciously, obviously still trying to orientate himself.

“I'm Sam,” Sam says, somewhat starstruck, offering a hand to him. “ Sam Wilson. I'm Steve's friend.”

“You're the running buddy,” Bucky deduces, accepting the hand with some measure of confusion. “What're you doing here? You're not a fake secretary too, are you?” The second half of the question was obviously a joke, but Sam gives him a look anyway.

“Do I look like a secretary to you?” Sam asks.

Bucky shrugs. “You look like you'd look good in heels,” he reasons easily and Tony lets out a loud, manic laugh. That seems to break Bucky out of his shock and he looks over at Tony. “Who was that? What did she want?”

“Hydra,” Steve spits, and Bucky pales.

“Oh… oh...” His eyes get wide and his gaze gets distant, breath getting a little shallow. “I thought… I thought we...” he says, desperate between pants.

Steve panics, grip tightening on Bucky, but that only seems to make him worse. He pushes weakly against Steve's grip and struggles to sit up more fully.

Both Sam and Bruce are at his aid right away, talking him down gently and getting Steve to loosen his grip. Eventually Bucky is leaning against Steve's chest, breathing hard with his hand over his eyes. “Sorry… sorry… I...”

Sam braces his shoulder. “Don't apologize. From what I've heard from Steve about Hydra, they are no joke. Think you're justified to have a freak out.”

“I thought they were gone,” Bucky says, now that he is calmer. “I thought when Schmidt was gone, they were gone too.”

Steve grimaces, resisting the urge to squeeze Bucky to him tight again. “Apparently not,” he says gravely, looking over to the woman on the floor. “Looks like Shield's the least of our problems.”

They all regroup to a panic room on a lower floor. They leave the body in the lab with an old gray tarp thrown over it while they figure out what to do with it. Despite his new unease and suspicion towards Tony, Steve has to practically carry him down to the room, as he has trouble walking. Sam helps Bucky stumble, but he is having a lot less difficulty moving around, more disorientated and dizzy than genuinely hurt. Overall, Tony is doing a lot worse than Bucky, even with his constant assurances that he is recovering. He is still pale and clammy, and he pants hard and acts dizzy when Steve sets him down, using Steve's arm as support. The worry he feels for the man far outweighs his new suspicion.

Despite the name, the panic room is a large room, lined with plush carpets, enough beds, sofas and chairs for the whole of the Avengers team, a long conference table and several cabinets packed with food, water, medical supplies, and other such essentials.

Bruce and Sam immediately cannibalize the supplies, setting both Bucky and Tony up in two of the beds. Bucky gets away with just having a bottle of water pushed at him, but both Bruce and Sam insist on an IV for Tony. Since Jarvis is out of commission for the time being, Bruce sets up a high tech heart monitor for Tony that beeps along with his heartbeat and fixes an oxygen cannula under the genius's nose. Steve thought he might find the sound of the heart monitor annoying, but he is only relieved at each and every beep that signals a successful pump of Tony's heart, especially when he passes out no less that five minutes after he is settled.

Bucky watches Tony worriedly the whole time, hand massaging the bruise on his collarbone until Sam tapes an ice pack to it. When he thinks Steve isn't listening, he points a finger at one of the bruises… hickies, on Bucky's chest. “Steve is going to want to talk about that,” he whispers and Bucky goes nearly as pale as Tony and continues to eye Steve sheepishly as he makes his way around the room.

They eventually all end up sat around Tony and Bucky's bed, Steve having pulled over several comfy recliners for them all. Tony is still sleeping and Bucky is keyed up and twitchy, but they need to discuss what their next move is going to be.

“So… Hydra is back,” Bruce says, sounding somewhat faint. “And we thought Shield was bad.”

“They know we're here. And more importantly, they know Bucky is awake,” Steve continues, steepling his fingers and bouncing his knee.

“They want me back… She… the Hydra agent… she said something about Dr. Zola… she talked about him like he wasn't dead,” Bucky says, the same grave expression affixed to his face. He is obviously scared, but valiantly trying to hide it. “Said something about not being through with me yet.”

“We won't let them have you,” Steve assures, placing a gentle hand on Bucky's knee over the covers. “You know we won't.”

Bucky just nods and goes silent, sipping at his water and looking vaguely nauseated every time he swallows.

“They also know how to take Jarvis and the Iron Man suits out. Those are the Tower's main defenses, aside from lock-down protocols. Obviously the security guards are just for the business floors,” Bruce says, rubbing a hand over his chin. “We can't stay here. Not unless we want you getting attacked again.”

Steve sighs. “We have no where else to go. Shield can't be trusted and it's not like we'd be safer on our own.”

Sam sighs heavily. “You can't even be sure Shield and Hydra aren't with each other,” he suggests and Steve frowns darkly. “I hate to say it, since you've been working with them and all, but it's a very real possibility. They're the only people that have had doctors on the inside here.”

“Yes, but there's also the fact that Bucky's presence here has not been kept quiet. The media is very aware, so they could have just as easily read the paper,” Bruce reasons, sensing Steve's unease. “We can't be sure of anything at this point.”

“Other than that there's a self-proclaimed dead Hydra agent in our basement,” Bucky says bitterly. “She can't have been working alone. Even if the… the Zola thing was a bluff… someone sent her here. What would she have done with me if she was on her own?”

“Shield could have just sent one and told them to identify as Hydra if they were caught,” Steve says reasonably. “I'm sure that Shield knows we're on to them. This might be a way to through us off.”

“True, but we can't completely dismiss the possibility that they are Hydra. And there is almost a one-hundred percent chance that they will attack again,” Bruce says. “Speculating is going to get us nowhere though.” He turns to Bucky. “This room is nearly impenetrable, but we can't keep you here forever. Our next step is to get you into a safer location… get us all out of danger.”

“Why don't you just make an announcement that Bucky has woken up. It would make it harder for them to steal him away without making a scene and he could hang out on more populated floors where more people could keep an eye on him,” Sam suggests.

“He was with Tony at the time of the attempt and at any other time he would have been with Steve or myself. No matter what, he is under the protection of one of the Avengers… I don't think a group of civilians is going to keep him any more safe,” Bruce says, somehow managing to sound meek.

“I think we should move locations. As secretly as possible, make it seem like we're all still here. We also shouldn't let anyone get wind of the attack. At this point, the less whoever-they-are knows, the better. That's how we're going to get the edge on this. This isn't about who has the most men or power, it's about who has the most information and keeping me on the inside at Shield is how we'll get it,” Steve says, wheels already turning in his head. “I keep working for Shield like nothing happened, Tony keeps hacking, and Bucky keeps recovering, this'll throw them off. It's best if we make them think that their operative never made it into the building.”

“You suggesting we dump her body somewhere?” Bruce asks curiously. “We can't just… keep it.”

“Actually we can… There are freezers in the bio-lab floors large enough for the body,” Tony says groggily from his bed. His words are slurring occasionally and his eyes are glazed and not entirely focused. “As for… moving… I've got a place in Cali, it's kinda far from here for Steve to keep reporting in, but we can figure something out.” They all turn to him and he waves. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asks, leaning forward slightly and shifting so he can see Tony better.

“Like shit,” Tony says eloquently. “But we don't have time for that. I'll be better by tomorrow. I say we move the body and get you and Steve somewhere else by tonight. They may be planning a secondary attack and although the lock down codes will still work, a full Tower shut down is going to draw a lot of attention.” He sits up a little bit and Bruce jumps to get another pillow behind his back to keep him from straining the aching muscles in his chest. “Also, can we just address the elephant in the room? Because if Hydra doesn't kill me, it is, and there's no way I'm sending you and Steve away just so tall, blonde and spangled can brood on it,” he says after a pause.

“What elephant?” Bucky asks, genuinely stumped, but when Tony clears his throat and motions to Bucky's chest, he flushes and swallows. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Tony agrees. He turns to address Steve. “So I like Bucky. As a person and as a friend, but also in a more sexual manner.” Despite his efforts, Steve still looks shocked and somewhat confused by his directness. Tony he plows on. “As you probably already know, Bucky did not get those bruises from the scuffle with our friendly neighborhood Hydra agent. He got them from me because I think he's hot and I want to put my mouth all over his body, but he won't let me until I tell you.”

Steve wonders, distantly, if he should stall Tony and have this conversation later, because something in the IV Bruce gave Tony is making the man incredibly honest, but also making him slur his words to the point that Steve is worried he is not entirely aware he is making this confession.

“And I don't want you thinking that I've been abusing your friend while you're away. Because I've got bruises to match, but they're on my hips because Bucky has one hell of a grip,” Tony continues and Bucky flushes a deep red. “And it's… it's not like this has been going on long… Only since a little after you left, so…”

Steve sighs, beating down a bit of his own confused, betrayed feelings. Sam is eyeing him dubiously, because he has told Sam a little of what he feels for the two men and he probably knows Steve is not taking this the best way he could.

“Steve… I...” Bucky begins, but Steve interrupts him with a little sigh.

“I… I'm not mad,” Steve says, faking a smile. It isn't hard, but he knows Bucky can see through it. “I just… I wish you'd told me.”

“Don't you start getting mad at Bucky. I was tellin' him not to tell you, 'cause… 'cause like you already think, I'm a coward,” Tony says, a small giggle on the edge of his words. “I could tell it was eating him up not to tell you, but I didn't want to say anything. It was my idea, so don't blame him.”

“I don't… I don't blame either of you,” Steve says. His voice is very strained. “You don't… have an obligation to tell me anything and I… I obviously didn't give off the impression that I would be okay with it,” he says, working through his own thoughts rather than speaking. “Maybe… You and Tony should go and I'll stay behind. You're… injured after all, and I wouldn't want to separate you. I… I'll probably have a mission to report into anyways.”

“Steve,” Bucky tries to interrupt again, but Steve stands abruptly. It startles Bucky, who is already battling feeling unsafe, and Steve immediately feels bad, even as Bucky's expression morphs from one of fear to one of shame.

“You don't need to say anything, Bucky,” Steve says gently, but he doesn't sit back down. “I… I just need a minute.” And with that, Steve disappears into the connected bathrooms, lock clicking behind him. Once alone and farthest away from where he would be in earshot he takes a deep breath and covers his mouth with his hand. His inability and fear to act on his feelings towards either of them has caused him to lose out on both, and now he can't even take that fact with a brave face. His eyes sting and he clenches one fist. Tony might have called himself a coward, but it's Steve who has proven himself to be one. Now he can only hope that they won't leave him behind.

Steve doesn't let anyone in until much later, no matter who pounds at the door or calls for him. He isn't crying, per-se, but his his face is red and his cheeks are wet and his nose has been running for the past thirty minutes and it causes him to make ugly sniffling sounds. He isn't crying, because there isn't anything to cry about. There was nothing between him and Tony and Bucky is just his friend. Steve would never change that. Steve doesn't want to change that.

Eventually, he lets Sam in, after he knocks several times and tells him Bucky and Tony are asleep and Bruce has gone to move the body. He opens the door, but refuses to leave, forcing Sam to sit awkwardly on the sink while Steve huddles on the floor like a child.

“That didn't go so well,” Sam comments, watching him, but not judgmentally.

“It went fine… I'm just… I'm just…” He takes a deep breath and composes himself. “I'm fine.”

“Yeah, that's why you locked yourself in the bathroom for an hour and half. You're lucky no one needed to pee,” Sam says, some irritation leaking into his voice. They sit in silence for a while, Steve trying to get a hold of himself and Sam letting him do so. “You need to talk to Bucky,” he says, after Steve's sniffling becomes less frequent. “Probably Tony too, but he is high as a kite, so that might have to wait.”

“I… Why? They already told me the truth, so that's… That's the end of it,” Steve insists. “I don't care… I'm fine with it, so there's nothing to talk about.”

“Well, obviously you care, or you wouldn't have locked yourself in the bathroom,” Sam points out, wanting nothing to do with Steve's bullshit. “And you need to talk, so that Bucky won't have another panic attack.” Steve startles at that, looking up at Steve. “Steve, after you ran off, we couldn't get him to calm down. Not even Tony. Bruce had to sedate him or he was going to hurt himself.”

Steve looks down, fighting the urge to bury his nose in his knees. “I… I just...”

“No. No excuses. Bucky's your best friend, right? You need to talk to him about this. Let him know you're not mad, and if you are, you need to work through that too,” Sam says firmly. “Obviously this is effecting you too and it doesn't have much to do with the fact they kept it a secret, does it?”

Steve sighs. “I think… well… I know I like Bucky… I love Bucky, but I...” He pauses and recollects his thoughts, trying not to get stuck on that particular confession. “I didn't want to… ruin… what we have now, you know? With Peggy it was… I didn't have history with Peggy. I knew… as soon as I got out of that machine that she felt the same as me, but Bucky has never… he's never really expressed that he felt that way. It still… hurts to have it confirmed.” He takes a breath and wipes at his face a bit. “And Tony… Tony and I don't get along, but I was still… he was growing on me and… he flirted with me and treated me… normal and no one does that… no one, but Bucky... I guess... so I thought…. Guess I though wrong on that one too.”

“Nothing's been confirmed, Steve,” Sam says. He sounds like he knows something Steve doesn't and Steve tries not to read too much into it. “You need to talk to Bucky and Tony. And you need to do it soon, before they leave.”

“So I'm… staying here?” Steve asks, filing away the talking part for later.

“Oh my God, Steve. I'm hoping not, no, but if you don't talk to them you'll stay here and I am not interested in dealing with the emotional fallout of that.” He slides off the sink and kneels in front of Steve, slapping his bicep and forcing Steve to look at him. “Talk to Bucky. Talk to Tony once the sedatives where off. Just... hear what they have to say. You want to run off after that, be my guest.” With that, he stands, pats Steve on the shoulder one last time and leaves Steve alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	21. Performance Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scene change! The Malibu mansion is introduced, supper is made, explanations about feelings are attempted, but ultimately failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I have returned!!
> 
> It took me a while to get into the groove of things, but school is definitely not as tough as I thought it would be this year. My boss has not yet gotten back with me on job stuff, so I've had time to write a little as well. I always find it hard to update though, so I'm actually a little ahead on chapters again!
> 
> Title is from the Avengers soundtrack.
> 
> I can't think of any big warnings for this chapter, if you spot one, let me know and I'll add it here.
> 
> Thank you for your kudos and comments! I really appreciate your feedback and encouragements, even if I don't reply to everyone.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

When Bucky comes to, he is groggy and cotton mouthed, his shoulder is altogether too warm, while his feet are freezing. He grumbles quietly, hand coming up to touch his shoulder where a warm plastic packet is taped to it. He turns his head to see Tony asleep in the bed next to his, mouth open and drooling slightly. The color is returning to his cheeks, and he is no longer hooked up to an IV, though the monitor still beeps along faithfully. It's a comforting sound, though, especially with what they have been through.

He flattens himself against the pillows and throws his arm over his eyes, repressing a groan. He knows he isn't alone in here, not with their current situation, but he wishes he was. As soon as he shifts in bed, he hears the tap of something against a table and shuffling.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, sounding both hesitant and hopeful. “Are you awake?”

Bucky frowns and rolls over on his side, making a sleepy noise, hoping to fake Steve out. Whether it works or not, he doesn't know, as Steve pulls a chair over and sits net to him anyway. He doesn't do anything, doesn't try to touch Bucky. He just sits next to him in silence, while Bucky attempts to feign sleep. It has to be obvious to him that Bucky isn't sleeping anymore, but he only sits there patiently.

“How long have I been out?” Bucky asks without turning over. It's useless to feign sleep now, Steve won't be leaving.

“I… uh… just about two hours,” Steve says. He fidgets in his seat a bit, obviously working up the courage to speak more. “I'm… about that… I'm sorry.”

Bucky tenses slightly. To be honest, he is angry at Steve, but as soon as Steve apologizes, Bucky finds it very hard to hold a grudge. It's probably because he knows Steve means it. Bucky still wants to be mad, though, make it obvious that he doesn't appreciate Steve's quick assumptions and terrible listening skills. Steve's hearing isn't bad anymore and he has no excuse. He merely grunts.

“I really am, Bucky,” Steve pleads. “I know what I… what I did made it seem like I wasn't happy for you...” he trails off for a few seconds before picking up again. “I am… I really am, but… after everything that's happened it was… it was a little too much,” Steve admits sheepishly.

Bucky chews his lip and curses Steve's honesty before rolling over and facing him. “I wish… I wish Tony hadn't have told you like that,” he admits honestly. “But it was… you really needed to know, so… I'm glad you know,” he says, sighing.

They lapse into an awkward silence after that, listening to Tony breath and the monitor beep rhythmically. Steve keeps shuffling, glancing away and then looking back while Bucky just digests all that's happened.

“Ah… Sam told me you...” Steve begins and trails off. He looks away then looks back again, fidgeting in his seat more. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I kinda want Tony to be awake for that,” Bucky says, eyes sliding to the genius who is still completely asleep in his bed. “It's something… we have to talk about together.” He can't fight the nervous heat that rises into his cheeks. “It's… I… Steve.” He reaches up and catches Steve's hand, attempting to keep him from bolting again when Steve looks away nervously. He is like a goddamn deer, a two hundred pound, super soldier deer. “I want you to stay, alright? And I want you to come with us to Tony's California house. Just because… just because I've got something with Tony, doesn't mean we aren't friends,” he explains gently. “It doesn't mean I don't… You're still my best guy, right? That doesn't change.”

“I know. It was just… unexpected,” Steve says, looking down and away, refusing to meet Bucky's earnest gaze. Bucky knows he is confused, he knows at this point to Steve, Tony has been giving mixed signals and Bucky's distance might have more to do with his new relationship than with everything else going on.

“Uh… Sam and Bruce are up on the residential floors packing for us. They should be back in a little while. We'll need to wake Tony up, so he can tell us how we're supposed to leave,” Steve explains after a few minutes of silence again.

“Steve.” Bucky situates himself, so he can sit up and be eye-level with him. He chews his lip before gripping Steve's hand tighter and forcing eye contact. “I love you,” he says seriously. “Nothing changes that, alright? I love you and I always will.” He hopes Steve understands. He can't exactly speak for Tony, but he can at least get himself cleared away. Tony would probably say something about Steve being hot, but Steve needs something more substantial than that. He doesn't need flirting, he needs the truth.

Steve looks shocked for a second and then his face morphs into something soft and understanding and Bucky's heart leaps. “I don't doubt that, Bucky,” Steve says, placing his hand over Bucky's. “I love you too. It's just… shocking… you and Tony… and Hydra all in one night. You'll always be my friend, okay? Tony's not bad. I just… I needed a break from all the surprises.” He laughs softly. “I'm old, you know? I've got to think about my heart.”

Bucky takes a breath to correct Steve, but is interrupted when the door opens, Sam and Bruce pushing through the doors with a couple suitcases. Bucky resists the urge to curse loudly and punch something, especially at Sam's pleased expression. He had told Sam what he planned to do between panicked spikes. How he wanted to explain to Steve, and how he would appreciate if no one was around for it, but him, Tony and Steve. That plan spectacularly fell down the drain.

“Steve, this is the last time I will ever pack for you. Your underwear drawer is like the department store at Valentine's Day. Where the hell did you get half of these?” Sam complains, hoisting two suitcases onto the table with a heavy thunk. “And does Bucky wear anything that's his? Other than socks, underwear and t-shirts? Because that's all I found in his closet.”

“Tony said he bought him clothes!” Steve defends, standing up. “I thought he just liked wearing other people's stuff.”

“Well, I do,” Bucky admits. “And I wasn't about to let Tony make fashion decisions for me, looking at your closet.”

“You wear things from my closet!” Steve argues, sounding offended.

“I don't go outside,” Bucky reasons back, shrugging.

Sam snorts. “You two are cute,” he comments. He helps Bruce to set Tony's luggage on the table before going to check on Tony.

Sam places a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder and shakes. He is oddly gentle and tender, considering he is handling a complete stranger and Bucky can feel his suspicion ebbing away. Tony is less endearing, rolling to the side and swatting Sam's hand away. “Tony, seriously. We need you to wake up. We need to get moving,” Sam says with some annoyance.

“I don't want to face reality...” Tony whines sleepily, rolling over again and pulling the covers up over his face. “Five more minutes.”

Bruce strides up and grabs the covers from the end of the bed, pulling them off Tony and the bed in one smooth movement. Tony peaks up at him and glares.

“You're terrible, Bruce. We are no longer friends,” he gripes, but rolls into a sitting position anyway. He rubs at his eyes sleepily. “So, what do you need me for?” He throws a cautious glance in Steve's direction.

“Mainly, we need an address for you house in California, and a way to get there without alerting anyone,” Bruce answers.

“And you need to talk to these two losers, but that can wait,” Sam adds on helpfully and Tony bites his lip in thought.

“10880 Malibu Point, Malibu, obviously,” Tony says, dodging under Bruce to grab his blanket. “By the way, Steve, I uh… I did not intend to tell you like I did. I was planning on something with candle light… and maybe wine. Wine always makes everything better.”

“I… it's okay. I'm glad you told me… eventually,” Steve says, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head.

“There's more to this,” Tony promises, sharing a meaningful look with Bucky. “But not for mixed company.” He casts a look at Sam and Bruce.

Steve looks a little startled and surprised, especially when Bruce nods knowingly and Sam rolls his eyes. “Did you… Did you give him an STD?” Steve asks, all worry and innocence. “If… Bruce can't help, I'm sure we can call a doctor--”

“We didn't have sex!!!” Bucky gasps at the same time Tony groans and drops his head into his hands. “We didn't… I don't have an STD. Can I even get an STD? Oh my god, Steve!” Even without a mirror he knows he is cherry red with how hot his face feels. At his mistake, Steve quickly mirrors him, turning red from his neck to his hairline.

“Oh… I'm… I'm sorry,” Steve says, sounding bashful. “I, uh… Tony said something like that… I just assumed.”

“I'm more insulted you think I have an STD!” Tony says, but he doesn't sound particularly put out, just slightly amused. “You think I don't get tested? Can't be a playboy and also a carrier.” He waves his hand at Steve's sputtered apologies. “I get it, you're looking out for your friend, but Jesus, Steve.” He dissolves into a fit of giggles as Bucky looks at him disapprovingly.

After Tony's subpar reassurances, Steve still looks unsure. Bucky can understand. If Tony didn't infect Bucky with some 21st century sex disease, then what could possibly be so private that they wanted to be alone to talk about it? Bucky just hopes Steve will hear them out, rather than just dismiss them right away. Maybe if both of them were saying it, he would understand.

They never do get a chance to talk about it, at least not at the Tower. Bucky and Steve leave together in a Stark Industries shipment van. It is lead lined and according to Tony, completely untrackable. Tony left some time later that night in Pepper's car with darkly tinted windows. Unlike Steve and Bucky, he would be taking the more direct route, rather than side roads, so he would be there first. He would arrange to have Happy drive it back, and Pepper would stay on the upper floors of the Tower until he returned.

The plan goes flawlessly, despite the awkward drive with Steve. Luckily, it isn't Steve's new discomfort with Bucky's new relationship that makes it so painful. The first few hours are filled with easy conversation between the two of them, along with some old games they would play while marching in the military. Then Happy makes an attempt at conversation and broaches upon several sore subjects and demands war stories about the Commandos from both of them when he fails to strike something in common among the three of them. Bucky and Steve both know he means well, but neither of them really have the flair of a good 'war story,' nor do they want to spend that much time thinking about the war.

The rest of the ride goes by in silence, leaving Steve and Bucky to think about what the other is thinking. It makes the overall air in the truck tense, despite its plush interior and when they finally pull into the underground parking lot in Tony's Malibu house, they are all glad for it.

Happy is insistent on carrying their bags to their rooms, despite the two of them being super soldiers and perfectly capable of carrying their own luggage. Instead, he directs them to the living area-kitchen combination that makes up the 'ground-floor' of Tony's sprawling mansion.

“Why does he need such a big house? He's one person,” Steve whispers to Bucky as they arrive on the floor.

“Not anymore!” Tony calls as he nearly prances down the stairs. He seems awfully happy for someone who just had to suddenly pack up and relocate. “Two new house guests and I get them all for myself!” He jumps the last two steps, walks about three feet in Steve's general direction, looks up at Steve's incredulous look and promptly trips over his own feet.

Bucky steps forward to catch him, but Steve is faster by a bit, and Tony falls straight into his chest, much like he had in the workshop. In a repeat of the workshop incident, he grasps Steve's arms and looks up at him, though Steve is now sure he is imagining the blush. Tony is just naturally rosy around the cheeks. It probably has something to do with his complexion, with how tan he is despite not spending time in the sun.

Bucky comes forward and Tony extracts himself from Steve's arms with a chuckle. “Barely a week into the relationship and I'm already falling into the arms of other men,” Tony says to relieve the awkwardness.

“Not like I could blame you,” Bucky shrugs easily. He appears not at all bothered by Steve's hands on his new boyfriend, but then again, Bucky has never been the particularly possessive type. “He's got some pretty nice arms after all...”

Bucky isn't the possessive type, except when it comes to Steve, his brain interjects unhelpfully, adding to the confusion. “You're just trying to make Bucky jealous,” Steve says, playing along with a knowing smile.

“Don't know how right you are...” Steve swears he hears Bucky mutter from his position slightly behind him. He only has a few seconds to puzzle that statement before Tony is sweeping them both into the kitchen with a stream of chatter.

“Help me give them the tour, Jarvis!” Tony says as they arrive. “The whole shebang!”

“Certainly, Sir,” the AI replies and Steve feels a flush of relief and comfort at the AI's voice.

“You're okay, Jarvis?” he asks before Tony can launch into his comprehensive tour of the kitchen.

“Of course, Captain. Hydra did not compromise my system, they merely knocked me offline for a small amount of time. If harm should occur to my locally installed program, I am stored on a remote secure server that can be re-downloaded to the home at Sir's convenience,” the AI reports. “I would like to apologize for installing myself on your phone without permission, Captain. Once the Tower went offline, it seemed the most efficient option,” he says, a note of regret in his voice.

Steve smiles at the show of emotion from the AI, even if he couldn't see it. “It's fine, Jarvis. If it wasn't for your quick thinking, Hydra might have Bucky.”

“Very good, Captain,” Jarvis says, sounding a little flustered.

Tony snickers and at Steve's confused stare, explains himself. “Jarvis isn't used to praise. Especially about his systems. Even though he is a learning AI.” He pats the wall and adopts a fond look.

“Now that Jarvis has reintroduced himself, shall we start the tour?”

Tony shows them around the mansion like he was there yesterday, rather than a little under a year ago, like Pepper had said. Obviously he knows the house like the back of his hand despite its size. The end of the tour lands them up in the hallway that houses Tony's bedroom and several guest bedrooms. Happy has already set Steve's bags outside one door and Bucky's outside another, not privy to Tony and Bucky's relationship yet, it seems.

“So, pick any bedroom you want. Though, if I could persuade you… My bedroom is the biggest, it has the best view, has a hot tub in the bathroom, balcony access and the comfiest bed, so… I think the choice is pretty obvious,” Tony says with a shrug and a suggestive wink at Bucky.

Bucky smirks lopsidedly and shoulders his own bags before reaching for Steve's.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks before he can stop himself.

Bucky pauses, halfway to grabbing Steve's luggage off the ground. “Figured you'd be bunking with us,” he says, obviously feigning nonchalance. “Safest choice, right?”

It is selfish, but Steve wants to spend what little time he has left with Bucky. He doesn't know when Tony and Bucky will want to move their relationship on to sex and effectively shut Steve out, so he nods, but moves to carry his own bag behind Bucky. Bucky only has one arm, and he knows Bucky is strong, but it would be hard to carry two bags at once. This seems to be the wrong thing to do, though, because Bucky frowns at him.

Tony stands by and watches the proceedings, his own frown forming between his brows. “Hey Cap, why don't you let Bucky be the gentleman, next time, huh?” he asks, seemingly casual and easy, but his voice carries a serious note and his voice is purposely pitched low for Steve's ears only. “He's got a nice arm too, and I like watching him flex,” he continues with a wink in Steve's direction, but the following glance is severe and meaningful.

“Okay,” Steve replies seriously, chewing his lip and repressing the urge to apologize. He shoulders his bag and follows after Bucky, who sets his duffel on top of the nearest dresser.

“What's our plan now?” Bucky asks, once they are unpacked. Steve is proud of himself for not offering to assist Bucky as he pulls his limited clothing out of the bag and places it in Tony's closet. It isn't that Steve thinks he is helpless, but he has never been one to sit back and be unhelpful. Bucky had never objected to it before, allowing Steve to help him cook and clean, fight, carry his pack and any number of things during the war, but now he is sensitive to it.

Steve lets out a sigh, watching Bucky rest a stack of sweatshirts on his hip, using his arm for support while he skillfully opens a drawer with his knee. Tony comes up behind him and pats a hand on his shoulder, offering a tablet with a list of recipes on it.

“Figured we would find something to cook ourselves, since ordering out at an abandoned house is suspicious activity,” Tony says with a grin.

Ever since his confession to Steve, Tony seems almost more tender. He initiates more contact and is more careful with his words. He also openly watches both Steve and Bucky while he thinks they aren't paying attention. It's confusing for Steve, especially when he catches Tony's eyes on him specifically. Although he seems quite protective of Bucky, perhaps he is just keeping watch to make sure Steve doesn't mess up again.

In the end, all three of them spend an hour puttering about the kitchen and looking at recipes online. The fridge is well stocked, but that means nothing to two men who only know how to cook dishes from the forties and one that refuses to eat said dishes.

“I don't care what your mother did, we are _not_ boiling those together! I might be a bad cook, but even I know that'll taste bad,” Tony complains, pulling the cabbage out of Bucky's hand and slapping the potato peeler out of Steve's.

“They don't taste bad! They have no taste anyway,” Bucky argues, trailing after Tony. “Besides, you're hardly one to be complaining.”

“Just because they don't have a taste doesn't mean they don't taste bad, Bucky! They're bland!” Tony says, he turns and sticks his tongue out at Bucky as Steve comes over to placate the two.

“It'll be fine just for tonight, right?” Steve reasons, walking behind Tony until they're about a hand's width away. Tony isn't short, but he is holding the cabbage above his head to keep Bucky from getting it, making it easy for Steve to snatch it.

“Hey!” Tony protests, immediately turning on Steve and reaching for the cabbage again. “We are not eating like we're on rations. Give me that!” Unlike Steve, Tony is not shy about getting up close and very personal. He practically climbs him like a human shaped tree in his quest for the cabbage.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Jarvis cuts in smoothly. “I believe I have come up with a compromise. Stir fry is an oriental inspired dish that Sir will eat. You may put cabbage in it, if you so choose.”

“We are not putting cabbage in the stir fry!” Tony argues, managing to grab the cabbage from Steve when he flinches because Tony has grabbed a handful of his left pectoral. Tony grabs the cabbage with a shout of triumph while Steve flushes crimson. Tony had obviously not meant to do that, but it was still weird, and makes Steve all too aware of his own size.

“We're doing this right. We're putting bok-choy in there… and beef. Bucky, get those,” Tony commands, taking control of the kitchen while Steve quiets his flustered nerves.

Bucky opens the fridge and leans in the doorway, staring at the contents before looking to Steve. “What the hell is bok-choy? Is that a sauce?”

Steve shrugs at him and Bucky settles for just getting the beef. He sets it on the counter and casually grabs the cabbage from Tony's hands, lobbing it to Steve. “I ain't putting anything in there that I haven't heard of,” Bucky asserts as Steve catches the cabbage and Tony yells and feints a charge at him. “Cabbage is a good vegetable.”

“It stinks!” Tony asserts. Steve tosses the cabbage to Bucky as he approaches and Bucky catches it easily with one hand, stepping a few feet away from Tony. “Bok-choy is basically the same thing.”

“Are we putting potatoes in it too?” Steve asks, skimming the recipe that Jarvis has put up on the screen on the fridge. “It doesn't call for that, but...” He trails off as Bucky throws the cabbage back to him. Tony tries to tackle Bucky from a precarious standing position on the counter, and Bucky catches him before overbalancing and falling to the floor with a clatter. Steve hesitates over them worriedly before Bucky starts laughing breathlessly.

“No potatoes!” Tony shouts. He is now straddling Bucky and Steve is finding that a lot harder to ignore than he thought. He thought that once they were both taken he wouldn't see them like that anymore. He thought that his feelings would go away, but seeing them together seems to only increase them tenfold. He averts his eyes, disguising his bashfulness as looking at the fridge. “What the hell else goes in stir fry, peppers? We're going to put a shit ton of peppers in it.”

“Bell peppers,” Steve corrects. He pulls the mentioned items out of the fridge while Tony tries to find a ticklish spot on Bucky. Steve knows he isn't going to find one unless he looks really hard.

“Get off, Tony,” Bucky laughs, grabbing Tony's groping fingers and halting his progress. “You're just gonna make Steve do all the work?”

Tony rolls off of him, even as he agrees. “I can't cook, so maybe keeping me far away from the food is a good idea. In fact… I'm so horrible, I think you should detain me… upstairs...” He wiggles his eyebrows at Bucky, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Speaking of, this recipe doesn't call for bok-choy,” Steve interjects. Bucky abandons Tony to crowd up behind Steve, shoulders brushing and pressing as he reads the recipe.

“It's a stir fry, you put whatever you want in it!” Tony argues.

Bucky makes a mock pained expression at Steve. “You hearing this?”

“You mean you put whatever Tony wants in it,” Steve corrects.

“Exactly!” Tony agrees unapologetically. Bucky hangs his head and sighs loudly and Steve makes a show of comforting him.

Despite Tony seriously policing what can and cannot go into the stir fry, they do manage to get dinner ready. They all end up on the couch, Tony tucked between Steve and Bucky and the T.V. turned onto the news. They chat amicably between bites, nothing mission related or about Steve and Bucky's past. New York, Shield, or Hydra don't make an appearance either. Steve does learn that Tony also loves space and science fiction, just like Bucky. He learns that Tony wanted to be an astronaut as a child, but Howard wanted him to be an engineer. He also learns that Pepper taught him to love art and that he owns several of Steve's old sketchbooks in storage, including the leather bound one that Bucky bought him the Christmas before he was deployed.

It's all very friendly and warm. Tony elbows him in the ribs occasionally, but Steve finds he doesn't mind and reciprocates, albeit more gently.

However, the program switches to world news and Steve can feel the blood drain out of his face. Civil war has broken out among the people of southern Cambodia after the death of a prominent drug and weapons dealer and authority in the area. Steve is hoping it is nothing, but a coincidence until the man's picture appears on the screen. The man Natasha shot, he is sure of it.

“Steve?” Bucky calls, ever perceptive. He is kneeling in front of Steve on the floor and gently shakes Steve's shoulder to get his attention. “Tony, turn the television off.”

“No,” Steve argues, almost frantic, as the television shows reels of tanks, men with guns, footage of fighting filmed on smartphones and displaced civilians. He swallows, feeling something in his chest twist. “I did that...” he mutters.

“What? Steve?” Bucky asks. He looks over to Tony and Steve follows his gaze.

“Jarvis, get all the information you can on that conflict. Who's on whose side, when it started, what started it, everything,” Tony says. His face is very grave, almost angry and Steve has to swallow back the guilt building in the back of his throat. “Also, turn it off.” The television switches off, and Steve has to blink, still seeing the shadows of his actions against the screen.

“You know who started it,” Steve says, turning to Tony. “Shield did. Using me!” He is absolutely frantic, ready to bolt off the couch and do something.

“No, Steve,” Bucky says, pushing him back and making eye contact. His eyes are a steely gray, hard and certain. “We've been over this. This isn't your fault.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue and is cut off by Tony. “Nuh-uh. Listen to Bucky, he's usually right,” he says.

Steve barks a sharp laugh. “Since when?”

Bucky looks like he is about ready to hit Steve. “Punk,” he spits, frowning. “I'm always right. The rest of you are just slow on the uptake.”

Steve relaxes slightly, sinking under Bucky's hand. Tony hops off the couch and gathers their bowls.

“Bucky, I have some work to do tonight,” he says, setting the bowls on the coffee table. “I can trust you to make sure Steve doesn't run and overthrow Shield without me, right?”

“You're assuming I don't want to do the same thing,” Bucky replies. His voice is like his eyes, hard, not allowing for any nonsense. “Steve here might not like bullies, but I don't like people who manipulate, especially not people who manipulate Steve. We've got a common enemy.”

“Believe me, I'm with you on that,” Tony says, just as serious. He braces a hand on Steve's knee and draws Bucky's attention. “I also know you know that wars aren't won all at once,” he says.

“Is that what this is?” Steve asks, conscious of Tony's hand on his knee, Bucky's hand against his chest. It's grounding, and he can feel his breath slow, the knot forming in his chest unwinding. “Is this a war?” he asks, somewhat calmer now.

“Well, you could hardly call us an army, but we're fighting something,” Tony says with a shrug. “And I gotta do recon. See if I can't figure out why they started this. Where you fit in.”

Both Steve and Bucky nod, Bucky removing his hand from Steve's chest, but leaning against his thigh as Tony leans over and places a surprisingly innocent kiss against Bucky's temple. He squeezes Steve's knee firmly and then stands.

“Workshop's downstairs if you need me,” Tony says.

Both Steve and Bucky watch him go and after he is gone Bucky distracts Steve with a movie and then bed. Later that evening when they're both laying in Tony's bed, Bucky's eyes closed and his breathing soft, but not yet asleep, Steve speaks.

“I'm sorry,” Steve says quietly. He is turned to face the other while Bucky sleeps on his stomach, head turned in Steve's direction. Bucky's eyes flicker open, a little confused frown between his brows.

“What for?” he asks. His eyes are oddly bright in the dark.

“You should be with Tony,” Steve says, mimicking Bucky's frown.

“So I can watch him type until tomorrow morning?” Bucky asks, then snorts. “Don't get me wrong, I like him, but I don't think I can watch him do nothing, but type for longer than a few minutes,” he says.

“You should be taking care of Tony, instead of making sure I don't...” he trails off, unsure of what thing they are working to prevent.

“Tony's fine,” Bucky says, sitting up a little. “You're the one I'm worried about,” he assures, sneaking a little closer to Steve. He doesn't say why, but he doesn't need to. Steve is reckless, the serum didn't change that. If anything, it made it worse.

“It isn't your fault. What's happening in that country, right?” Bucky continues, holding Steve's gaze unshakingly. “I don't care if you were there or not. Who sent you or why. It ain't your fault. Just like it isn't your fault that Hydra's back.”

Steve just frowns at Bucky, unable to come up with a counteractive argument that the other will listen to. “Fine. I don't… I don't believe that, but I'm not going to argue with you,” he finally says. “You need to sleep.”

“Says the guy who wanted me to go babysit Tony,” Bucky grouches, but gives in, settling into the pillows and pulling Steve close. “Come here.”

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, suddenly worried about what Tony will think if he finds them like this.

“Making sure you don't get away,” Bucky says firmly. “You're gonna sleep too, whether you want to or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	22. The Mandarin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens, problems grow and Steve is left very very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! It has been a long time. A very long time. Never fear though, I am now free for the summer and will continue writing this, hopefully at a faster pace. I have not seen Civil War yet, so if you all could hold off on spoilers for it in the comments, that would be swell of you! I would imagine it will have very little impact on this fic, but still... just to be safe.
> 
> Title is from the Iron Man 3 soundtrack
> 
> Warnings: Tony has a panic attack in this chapter. I tried to describe it accurately, but not too detailed. Let me know if there's anything else I should tag or if I should change something. I tried to work mainly off of the kind he has in the movies.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all your support during my impromptu hiatus. I hope you all enjoy this long awaited chapter and it isn't too underwhelming! The next chapter should be up Sunday or Monday, depending.

No matter how deep he digs, Tony cannot find the Cambodia mission on Shield's servers. He can't find anything connecting to it. He can't even find it in Steve's file. It's like the whole thing never happened as soon as the civil war started.

It is three in the morning, and Tony leans back from his computer and lets out a frustrated growl, scratching his fingers through his hair. “How are you doing, Jarvis?” Tony asks.

The music blaring in the background fades to a more tolerable level. “Nothing yet, Sir. Captain Rogers' files are intact and there is no evidence of tampering, though the Cambodia mission and its purpose are not mentioned at all. They were there with an initial search earlier this month.”

“Figures Shield would cover their tracks. The slippery bastards,” Tony mutters. He resists the urge to slam his fist against the desk. He may need to start speaking to Bruce about anger management strategies with how frustrating Shield is making his life. “How does this help them? Can you pinpoint any particular goal?”

“Other than the obvious?” Jarvis retorts, rather snarky. Jarvis must be learning frustration from Tony, the AI has always been sarcastic, but never quite so short. “Civil instability in the region will provide an opportunity for Shield to move in and intervene, thus expanding their influence into the East...” he says without waiting for a prompt to continue. “Though they already have China, South Korea and India as friendly territories that are much more advantageous than Cambodia.” Jarvis sounds increasingly perplexed as he processes the available information. “This is… I am not human, nor am I an AI allocated purely for strategy, but this does not offer any clear strategic advantage or gain of any sort.”

“Unless there's something going on underneath that we can't see,” Tony says, rubbing his chin. “Maybe it's in preparation. You win a war by thinking twenty steps ahead… What are they planning?” He leans his chair back on its two legs and rocks while he thinks.

“If I may, perhaps this would be something best slept on?” Jarvis asks. “I do not believe we will be making any more headway tonight. And I will continue decrypting while you rest.”

Tony thinks it over, allowing his chair to lean forward until it sits flat on the floor. “How are Steve and Bucky right now?” he asks.

“Sleeping, despite Captain Roger's best efforts,” Jarvis reports, with that odd tone of amusement he has adopted from someone. Tony thinks he may have gotten it from Steve, from when he thinks something is funny, but won't let on. “He is still quite worried about you. It may be best to join them.”

“Okay,” Tony says. He knows in some odd way, Jarvis has manipulated him into going to bed, but he won't get onto him about it tonight. “Wake me up as soon as you find anything,” he instructs, jumping out of his chair. On his way up the stairs, he removes his outer shirt and tosses it back down the stairs, leaving him in his undershirt and a pair of comfy sweats.

He enters his room quietly, practically tiptoeing over to the the bed where the two super soldiers are effectively tangled in each other. Bucky has Steve's hand clutched in his own and Steve's nose is tucked in the hollow of Bucky's throat, other arm thrown haphazardly over Bucky's waist. As he approaches, Steve's eyes flicker open sleepily and he peers at Tony over Bucky's shoulder.

Tony places a finger over his lips to signal him to be quiet. Steve blinks at him and his arm tightens around Bucky's waist, pulling him closer to make room for Tony. Tony smiles thankfully and crawls in after Bucky.

Even after he is settled, Steve watches Tony with a sort of sleepy, unconcerned gaze. Tony wonders if Steve is even actually awake, or still half asleep because this is the first time Tony has seen him awake and so soft at the same time. Hesitantly, Tony unwinds a hand from under the covers and moves it towards Steve's hand that is resting gently in the dip of Bucky's waist. Steve seems to startle and starts to move his hand away before Tony catches it and settles it back where it was, his own hand snaking over Steve's wrist to rest on his forearm. Steve looks at him, confused, for a few seconds, before relaxing and seemingly falling back to sleep.

Bucky picks that time to snuffle and turn his head slightly, so that it is angled a little more towards Tony. Tony takes the opportunity to snuggle closer, pressing his face against Bucky's back. In addition to puzzling out Shield, he and Bucky still need to tell Steve. He is practically a part of the relationship already, they just need to let him know.

The next morning, Tony is woken by the smell of breakfast cooking and the weight of Bucky's head on his chest. He grumbles slightly as the sun flitting through the window gets in his eyes when he peeks them open. Almost immediately after the sound leaves his mouth, he is greeted by a very morning-breath full kiss from Bucky. “Well, that proves I'm not dreaming,” Tony mutters by way of greeting. Bucky doesn't even have the decency to flush.

“Hey, we both suffered. I think its fair,” Bucky says with a self-satisfied smirk. Tony sticks his tongue out at him and rolls out of bed. “Steve's making breakfast?”

“Trying. He promised he wouldn't put any potatoes or cabbage in it, since you're so against them.” Bucky says. Tony furrows his brow and slaps Bucky's arm. Bucky laughs.

“You shut up,” Tony says, a false hardness in his voice. Bucky follows him out of bed and wraps his arm around Tony's waist, chin resting on his shoulder. His fingers tease under Tony's shirt absently. “You're affectionate this morning,” Tony comments, peering over his shoulder at the Sergeant.

“Glad you came to bed last night,” Bucky says, leaning his head against Tony's shoulder. “Steve was a lot calmer when he woke up this morning. Less ready to pack up and run to New York.” He leans back and stretches, arm and stump fully extended and spine arched slightly. Tony eyes him shamelessly, but keeps his hands to himself, letting Bucky have his morning stretch. “You know, I saw you and Steve holding hands last night,” Bucky says, relaxing.

“More like I was holding his. Was probably going to leave the bed if I didn't intervene,” Tony explains. “He's really nervous about overstepping.”

“He didn't pull away after you grabbed him, though,” Bucky says, hope leaking into his tone. “I… I know he likes you… in the sexy kind of way,” he says before Tony can try to deny it. “I'm… I'm not sure about me, but maybe...”

“He loves you, Bucky,” Tony says. “You don't platonically spoon your best friend.” At the confused look Bucky gives him, his eyes widen. “Wait…. Is that… is that normal for you?”

“It was a different time,” Bucky defends. “Folks shared beds. They were expensive. It was cold.”

“Bullshit. Folks did not spoon folks unless they were in a relationship,” Tony says. “My… Howard hardly even hugged people of the same sex, and you can't say he was any different.”

Bucky frowns. “Steve's just… he's just clingy,” he says, but he sounds unsure. At Tony's look, he groans, frustrated. “Well, if he felt that way, why didn't he say anything?!” he asks angrily. “Steve doesn't beat around the bush. You know that.”

“He does with you, Bucky!” Tony says, grasping Bucky's shoulder. “He's gentle and he's careful and he's only that way when you're around. He's not like that around the Avengers. He just shoots his mouth off. Aunt Peggy said he acted like this around her. He's obviously trying to impress someone and I'm pretty sure it's not Nat.”

“That doesn't make sense!” Bucky argues. “He's just… he's just treating me like that because he...” Bucky trails off, sounding hurt. “I can't… Tony, he doesn't think he can be… careless… with me anymore. I'm too…” he trails off, quiet.

“There's no way he thinks that,” Tony says, calling up their confrontation in the lab. How adamant Steve had been that Bucky wasn't broken. “He got on my ass about--” he cut himself off before he could spoil his surprise. “… something, concerning you. Got onto me about making you feel useless or helpless, because you're not.” Bucky looks a little shocked, but still unconvinced. “Besides, you can't tell me this is new… Howard always talked about how he let you get away with shit that no one else could.”

“You're looking for stuff where there isn't any,” Bucky says quietly.

“Whether or not that's the case,” Tony says, grabbing Bucky's hand. “We're putting our offer on the table. And I know what you were getting at. We should do it soon. I say today, before he starts accusing me of tainting you, or whatever.”

“He seems more worried about you giving me an STD,” Bucky says with a small smile. “God I hate this. I wish Steve wasn't so damn thick skulled.”

“I have an idea that'll communicate our feelings pretty clearly. Come on, we gotta brush our teeth.” Tony herds Bucky into the bathroom.

“We're going to be eating breakfast, Tony,” Bucky reminds him, almost gently, like Tony had forgotten.

“Yeah, but morning breath kisses don't exactly spell romance.”

Two brushed sets of teeth, and Tony taking a horrendously long time 'artfully' mussing his hair in the bathroom mirror, and they are emerging into the living area. Steve is across the way, working busily in the kitchen, currently scraping bacon out of a pan and onto a large ceramic plate. The television is flipped on to the news, but turned down quietly, and Steve seems not to be paying attention to it.

Tony approaches Steve slowly from behind after instructing Bucky to hang back. He reaches his arms around Steve's waist, and the blonde stiffens in the middle of pushing eggs around the pan. It is quiet aside from the sizzling of the eggs as they cook in the leftover grease from the bacon.

“Morning, handsome,” Tony practically purrs. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

Steve is still frozen where he stands. The eggs begin to burn in the pan. “U-uh… it's no problem. Where's Bucky?” he asks. His voice takes on a little desperate tone, but Tony persists, leaning up so that his breath brushes against the back of Steve's neck.

“Just over there,” Tony says, pointing languidly at the aforementioned Sergeant. Steve follows his point and gives Bucky a confused look. The man in question is leaning against the wall, a satisfied smirk affixed to his features, easy going as can be. In the meantime, Tony can feel the new heat Steve is putting off and the beat of his heart as it begins to race.

“We've got a proposition for yo--” Tony begins to say. Then the television goes dark for a second, before switching to a strange, multicolored screen, overlain with a pair of swords surrounded by ten rings. Tony can practically feel the blood drain from his face and he steps away from Steve. “What he hell...” he asks no one in particular.

The television switches quickly between images, some of a man in dark robes, some of people, some of violence, all voiced over with a slow, monotonous voice. The actual content of what he says is lost on Tony as he is still blinking away the familiar Ten Rings flag from his eyes. He feels his lungs get tight, and his heart starts racing in a decidedly unhealthy way, skipping beats every so often as he feels his lungs fill with water and the world close in around him. A hand closes around his shoulder and Tony pushes it away, stumbling forward and onto his knees on the cool tile floor of the kitchen. His sweaty hands slip against the tiles and if it wasn't for the firm hand around his waist, he would have slid forward face first.

As it is, he does not fall, but is rather turned over onto his back, braced by two strong arms. One hand lands on his cheek and he can hear someone speaking to him gently. “...Tony…?” the voice says. “Hey. There you go. Take it easy, Tony, deep breaths,” the voice coaches, and Tony is reminded of Bruce.

“Big guy?” Tony asks, though he knows he is wrong.

The voice confirms that. “Well I… don't know about that. Not much bigger than you, actually. You back now?” the voice asks. Bruce had never sounded so scared before. “How about you open your eyes for me?”

“I had them closed?” Tony asks breathlessly. He blinks his eyes open and is staring up at both Steve and Bucky, honestly the best surprises he could have asked for. “Bucky… Steve.” He reaches up and Bucky catches his hand.

“Gave us a little scare, there. Want to… want to talk about it?” Steve asks him this time. He is still somewhat flushed, beneath the pale he must have gone when Tony collapsed. Both he and Bucky are pressed so close, shoulders touching naturally as they both hold Tony up and together.

“The… That message was from the Ten Rings,” Tony says, sounding more scared than he means to. “They… They're kinda the reason I have this...” He taps on the arc reactor through his shirt. “Kidnapped me once… were… were paid by a friend.”

Tony is touched and startled by the severely pained look that overtakes Steve's face at that information. “They won't… we won't let them get you again,” he says firmly. Bucky squeezes his hand in sympathy and agreement.

“Not… not worried about that,” Tony says, sitting up. Although he is worried. He is so worried that they'll hunt him down and take everything away from him again. “Everything just keeps piling up, doesn't it?” he asks. The television switches back to the news. The woman is saying that their airwaves had been hijacked, and reporting the other affected channels. “Looks like they aren't after me, anyway,” he says, looking over the television. That broadcast wasn't meant for him, it was meant for everyone.

“This might… this might be more pressing than Shield or Hydra,” Steve says hesitantly.

“This might just be Shield and Hydra,” Bucky adds, kneeling. “Didn't you wipe out the Ten Rings? I remember reading that somewhere in the hacked files from Shield you got.”

“Obi… Obadiah, did,” Tony says, sitting up. “No loose ends, and all that jazz. I… uh… I mean, you wiped out Hydra and they're supposedly back. Who knows?” He is trying to sound non-committal, but he knows both Bucky and Steve can see through him.

“Regardless… They're… they're priority. They've already attacked. And their target is more than just a couple of old guys from Brooklyn. I'd say… I'd say it's more important,” Steve says, trying for a smile. “We're behind you on this, Tony.”

Tony stares at Steve for a long enamored moment before sitting up more. He wants to tell Steve, continue with his plan, lean up and kiss the man. He definitely has a lot more courage now that Bucky is next to him, but it feels inappropriate, what with a sudden terrorist hijacking airwaves. “Thanks,” he says, finally. “I'll start looking into it now.”

“No, you're going to eat breakfast now. And then you can start working on it,” Bucky says firmly. “You need to calm down, eat something. You too, Steve,” Bucky adds when Steve looks especially antsy.

Breakfast sees Tony ordering one of his suits to the Malibu mansion while he crunches on a piece of Steve's slightly burnt, but still palatable bacon. With Steve and Bucky distracting him so much, he really only has one barely working old model of armor with him. The body of the prototype he left at the Tower and the suitcase one was trashed when Ms. Hydra attacked them. While he is at it, he has Happy discretely pack the arm away as well, with Jarvis's instruction on what to put up and what to leave. He also sets Jarvis on the task of combing possible links to the Mandarin's location.

After breakfast, Tony packs up and heads down to the lab, but he isn't alone. Both Bucky and Steve follow him down to the lab and entertain themselves in the more homey space. The lab in the Tower isn't compact, but it is also very messy and much smaller than the entire basement that Tony has devoted to his lab in the Malibu Mansion. The couch is also newer, along with more touches from Pepper to make it livable.

Bucky and Steve try to keep up with what Tony is doing, but the two of them are still new to computers, so once Tony starts tightening search parameters to find more specific results, Steve pulls Bucky away, so that he can have him as a model for drawing.

Once they are out of earshot, Tony starts complaining, because he may be concerned with yet another new threat, but he is also only human and can multitask. Plus, Jarvis is a good listener. “The Mandarin is one hell of a cock block, huh, Jarvis?” he asks, pouting slightly as he skims through a report of one of his explosions.

“Yes sir,” Jarvis allows. “As are Shield and Hydra, it seems,” he adds.

Tony snorts. “Man, I was so close… he didn't push me away… that's a good sign, right?” he asks hopefully.

“He did not seem overly adverse to your advances,” Jarvis says, sounding speculative. “Though if left for too long, he will likely get confused and form his own conclusions as to why you embraced him in full view of Sergeant Barnes.”

“I think Bucky will probably save me on that one,” Tony says thoughtfully, squinting at a fuzzy satellite image. “Can't be trying to cheat on him if he's standing right there.” He continues scrolling through images, when Happy's number flashes on the screen.

“Ah! Just the man I wanted to see. How goes the suit transport?”

Bucky and Steve are sat up in the living room playing poker. Steve is being ruthless, determined to take every mint that Bucky is wagering. Steve is also cheating. He thinks he isn't being blatant about it, but Bucky can see how he discretely marks the cards when he deals them. Bucky isn't going to get onto him about it, though. They are playing for candy, not rations, and if Bucky wants more he can always get up and get it from the cabinet himself.

As it is, Steve is cleaning Bucky out, already a large amount of the candy rests on his side of the table. “This is too much,” Steve says, eyes fixed on his cards as if he is genuinely worried about them, as if he doesn't already know Bucky's got a bad hand.

“I agree,” Bucky replies. “How are you going to eat all that? You just like winning,” he accuses. He knows this isn't what Steve is talking about, but he feels better about joking than being serious.

“That's not what I meant,” Steve says. As if he is taking pity on Bucky, he pushes half his pile in his direction. “Shield… Hydra… now the Ten Rings… it doesn't stop.”

Bucky makes a mock grumpy face and steals a chocolate truffle from Steve's pile, abandoning his cards to unwrap it and shove it in his mouth. “You know what they say, when it rains it pours….” he says, trying not to sound bothered.

“Bucky… it's more like it's hailing and we don't even have an umbrella,” Steve says seriously. Only Steve Rogers could cheat at cards while also sounding so desperate. “Ever since… ever since we woke up, we haven't gotten a break.”

Bucky bites back a reply that would seem insensitive. Steve might not have gotten a break, but Bucky certainly has. His entire life in this future is a break. Even if the world comes crashing down around their ears, he can't do a single thing about it. “We don't… We don't need an umbrella,” he says simply. “Tony's got us covered.” It's a rather cheesy thing to say, and as Bucky expects, Steve snorts.

“Can't argue with you there,” Steve agrees and Bucky allows himself a private smile. “Sure know how to pick them, don't you?”

“Sure do,” Bucky says, unapologetic, looking up at Steve. “Apparently I like them short and with attitude.”

“Tony's not short,” Steve argues. Bucky plays his hand and Steve's unsurprisingly trumps his. Steve gathers his winnings with a triumphant grin. “He's definitely got an attitude though.”

“Oh, and you don't?” Bucky asks. It's partially a jab and partially a hint. Tony might not be short, but Bucky knows someone who was and Bucky fell in love with that little punk before he ever met Tony and before he ever got taller. It took a long time realizing it, but he knows now, as he watches Steve unwrap a mint and pop it in his mouth.

“Not saying I don't,” Steve shrugs. “His is a lot more… egotistical… though,” he says, but the hesitation tells him a lot more than the actual words. Bucky snorts. “I am not… as egotistical… much.”

“No, but you strut around like you got something to prove,” Bucky points out. “Both of you puff out your chests. It's funny,” he says easily with his own chuckle.

“Sure… Tony's got an ego, but… I think you'd know where he's coming from if you'd sit and listen to what he has to say half the time… Get to know him,” Bucky continues. He starts stacking his cards, a task made seven times more difficult with only one hand. “Might not have started out as a little dirty punk from Brooklyn, but he hasn't always been the mighty Iron Man.”

“You saying I have a lot in common with a _Stark_?” Steve asks. He scrunches his nose and leans back slightly, like he has smelled something foul.

“Tony and Howard are two completely different animals,” Bucky says, refusing to be cowed. “The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be.” He can't help the hostile note that creeps into his voice. Steve had been making so much progress, but then he starts using his stupid brain and trying to piece crap together that doesn't work.

“You keep saying that...” Steve says, watching as Bucky carefully stacks his house of cards. They are silent, Bucky stacking and Steve watching for a while before he takes a breath.

“Hey, what was… what was he trying to do this morning? At breakfast?” Steve says. He looks curious, but there is also a slight blush across his cheeks and his hand wanders to where Tony's arms had wrapped around his waist earlier.

Bucky watches all of this closely and with interest, while also panicking. How is Bucky supposed to explain Tony's failed attempt at courting the man?

“Uh...” Bucky says intelligently, and Steve narrows his eyes at him suspiciously. Bucky can feel himself start sweating.

Then Tony saves the day, yet again, by bounding up the stairs, babbling loudly and angrily, accompanied by Jarvis's placating tones. “It's like this guy doesn't exist. I can't find anything connecting him to the Ten Rings. Are they even active? What the hell is this. I had better things planned today,” he says.

Bucky knocks his knee against the table and sends his card house collapsing. Steve turns to watch Tony trudge across the floor and flop on the couch. He is missing a sock and his sweat pants are untied and slipping down his waist. His hair is also crazy, like he had been spending his time in a wind tunnel, rather than a lab. If Tony wasn't so angry, Bucky would find him very attractive. Hell, he thinks he is attractive anyway.

Bucky stands and makes his way over to Tony, settling down next to him. Bucky looks over to him, still fuming, but he softens at Bucky's face and Bucky is honestly really pleased to have that effect on someone.

“Calm down. You'll get it… How about you take a break?” Bucky suggests gently.

“You gonna 'take a break' with me?” Tony asks, almost like a child asking for a cookie. “I think I deserve a kiss after all my hard work, at least.”

“At least?” Bucky echoes. He is unresistant to Tony when the man pulls him forward and smashes their lips together, tongue already probing at Bucky's lips for entrance. Bucky grunts into Tony's mouth, but allows his tongue, melting against the other man and pushing him back into the sofa. In response, Tony hitches a leg around the back of Bucky's calf and cups his ass, practically pulling him into his lap.

After a few more heated seconds of kissing, Bucky manages to pull away, though reluctantly. “Tony… remember… Steve,” Bucky pants, already hot and flushed. His cock is pressed against Tony's already hard member and it responds in kind. Tony squeezes his ass and Bucky squirms, making an odd, discontent noise he wasn't aware he was capable of making. “Not here,” he manages to say, a little firmer and pulls back. Tony pouts, but relents.

“Um--” Steve cuts in, sounding strained. “I can… give you some privacy… if you want.” Bucky looks over to see Steve half stood and staring at them. He isn't beet red like he usually gets when embarrassed, but there is a light pink dusting his cheeks and nose. Usually Steve would be turned away, tomato red, possibly getting on Bucky's case for not getting a room or closing the door. Instead, he is turned towards them, eyes locked on Bucky's, but occasionally wandering. It makes Bucky curious and turns him on a little, as much as it shouldn't.

He places his hands on Tony's shoulders and leans up, trying to scoot out of his lap. “Nah. The living room's not for this kind of thing. No matter how pushy this guy is,” Bucky says, shooting Tony a reprimanding glare.

“It's my living room...” Tony argues, even as he makes a satisfyingly apologetic expression. “Sorry. Got a little excited.”

“A little?” Bucky asks with a cocked brow. Steve coughs and both their attentions snap to him.

“Sorry about that, Cap,” Tony says as Bucky climbs out of his lap. He kisses Bucky on the cheek as he stands, a much more innocent show of affection that still seems to incite something in Steve. “Kinda got ahead of myself.” To add to that, Tony winks at him, and if Steve wasn't confused before, he certainly is now. “Who wants dinner? Is that candy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	23. About Damn Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just smut. Smut disguised as exploratory relationship building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for not posting anything for a long time and then having a chapter that didn't really have a ton going on, so here you go.... This is how I apologize. I apologize by writing porn. I have no idea how actually 'good' this is, but the more I practice writing it, the better I'll get, right?
> 
> I also figured that Tony and Bucky couldn't very well be expected to dive right into a poly relationship with Steve without developing the one they had, both emotionally and physically. Sex is complicated enough with two people :P
> 
> Title from the Ant Man soundtrack
> 
> Warnings: This is smut. There is a blow job, and anal fingering as well as some sexy negotiation and some awkward negotiation. Bucky may seem a little reluctant at times, but this is all totally consensual on both sides, rest assured.
> 
> Also, if you didn't see the other chapter, there's one before this. It'll make a few things make sense in this chapter, so please go read that first. I'm not sure how these two chapters will post, but I want to make sure you see that too.

Relocating to the California mansion has its pros, mainly that it feels more like a home to Tony, and the view is much nicer. Tony could smell sea air every morning, rather than the smog that blanketed New York city. He could also spend more time in closer quarters with the two super soldiers under his care. The mansion wasn't exactly small, but it was definitely smaller than the tower, and having the living spaces confined to two floors made it easier to locate the other residents of the house. It also helped that the two of them couldn't go out, making it hard for Steve to disappear for hours on end, running.

The size of the mansion also provides the one con. Because Steve doesn't go out, it is nigh impossible for Tony to catch Bucky alone. It's like the two super soldiers are glued together, or at least magnetic. Wherever Bucky goes, Steve is not far behind. So even when Tony thinks he has finally caught Bucky by himself in the kitchen, and goes over to steal a quick kiss, in comes Steve, making the whole exchange very awkward.

Their relationship is hardly a secret from he blonde, but neither Bucky nor Tony like that melancholy look Steve adopts whenever he catches them doing romantic things. So even though Bucky is comfortable doing the things that couples do when they're alone, now that Steve is no longer ignorant to their relationship, they can't do it in good conscience. They make a deal that they will save that stuff for private encounters, at least until they manage to get Steve in on the relationship. Tony agrees, but Steve's clinginess is testing the limits of Tony's patience. He is quickly becoming a cock block, and Tony is about ready to just pull him aside and kiss him too, complications be damned.

And complications really are the problem. Initiating, or trying to initiate a relationship, especially one as complicated as what Bucky and Tony have in mind, means taking time to talk it out. Bucky made it clear enough that Steve would have questions, would need reassurances, and would definitely need more reassurance than Bucky. And with the threat of the Mandarin, the Ten Rings, Shield and Hydra hovering over their heads, they don't have time for a four hour long heart to heart. Tony isn't about to mess this up by rushing either.

All of this doesn't stop Tony's libido, though. He feels like a horny teenager again, fingers itching and skin aching for any kind of contact with Bucky. He has gotten a taste and he wants more. He didn't think someone could get addicted to a person, but then he met Bucky.

Tony leans his head against the shower wall miserably, considering just giving himself some relief. He isn't sure it would be the same, though. He wants Bucky's hand on him, his lips on his neck. Tony wants to taste Bucky again, run his hands over his body. Tony hardens at the thought, licking his lips. He has already started fantasizing, might as well go all the way. He wraps his hand around himself, imagining it's Bucky's. He hopes Steve and Bucky can't hear him groaning in the shower… or maybe he wants them to hear....

Hours later, he is working in the lab, programming routines for Bucky's new prosthetic to the nerve endings in his own arm in ways that the nerves and computer can understand. Luckily, it tuns out humans create things in their own image, so Tony doesn't need to spend too much time making a translation code for the two of them. The nerve impulses run on electricity, a language that the computer can pick up and understand pretty easily. He only needs to tweak it here and there.

He manages to get the simulated arm to make a fist when he feels someone's flesh arm wrap around his waist. He startles and practically swipes the simulation off the screen.

“You need a break,” Bucky says. His voice is gentle and a little husky, and Tony can feel lips at his ear. Tony leans into it, basking in the affection. Bucky hardly starts anything, he is very receptive, but obviously not an initiator, so Tony takes this moment to enjoy Bucky's breath ghosting across his neck.

“Only been working for a few hours,” Tony argues, turning his head slightly to look at Bucky. The man's hair is a little damp, and he has recently shaved. Bucky tilts Tony's head towards himself a little more and kisses him softly. This seems to be Bucky's new way of pulling Tony out of his head. It is very effective, as Tony feels the fugue of code and constructs clearing and his brain focusing more on Bucky's lips.

“Make that five hours,” Bucky says as he pulls away. “You need to eat… probably take a nap,” he brushes a hand through Tony's hair. “You took a shower already.” He sounds proud.

Tony grins a tad, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck. “Where's Steve?” he asks.

Bucky's mouth is quirked, a small upward turn of his lips. “Fell asleep on the couch watching some nature documentary.”

Tony laughs. “What an old man….” He catches the look in Bucky's eyes. “You think he'll be out for long?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Bucky looks thoughtful. “Probably...” he says. He tilts his head and smirks. “You got something planned?”

Bucky's gaze causes Tony's face to heat and he looks away, suddenly bashful. He rubs the back of his head nervously. “We don't… we don't have to do anything too…. I really just want a ki--”

Bucky's lips are on his in an instant, hand pushing at the back of Tony's neck, forcing him forward. Bucky nips lightly at Tony's bottom lip before licking at the seam. Tony opens immediately to allow him entrance. At that, Bucky nimbly situates himself in Tony's lap, hardly breaking the kiss. Tony manages to break away to pepper Bucky's neck with bites and kisses. Bucky tips his head back accommodatingly, making a tiny gasp and clutching at the back of Tony's shirt. Tony noses gently at the soft skin behind Bucky's ear and catches his earlobe with his teeth.

“You're using my aftershave,” Tony comments, snaking his hands under Bucky's shirt.

Bucky shivers as Tony's cold fingers come into contact with his ribs, but still manages to shoot Tony a cocky grin. “You complaining?” he asks.

“Nah,” Tony says easily. “I kinda like it.” He pulls the collar of Bucky's shirt to the side slightly, and sucks a small mark into the crook of his neck as Bucky rakes his fingers down his back over the fabric of his shirt.

Bucky captures Tony's lips again, cupping his face with his one hand and rolling his hips forward. Tony chokes out a moan at the feel of Bucky's excitement. “Was… was gonna ask f you were sure about this,” Tony says, pulling away and staring dazedly at the man in his lap. “But I'm pretty sure you are.”

“I said I didn't want it to be a secret. It's not a secret anymore,” Bucky explains, sitting back. He fingers the hem of Tony's shirt and Tony lifts his arms to allow him to pull it over his head. Bucky practically falls onto him once the fabric is gone, laying kisses down Tony's chest. Tony leans back and lets Bucky have his way, hands wandering up his back and through his hair. He finds himself shivering as Bucky's tongue traces the skin just outside of his arc reactor. Through all this, Bucky keeps a smooth, gentle rhythm of rolling his hips against Tony's as he lavishes attention on Tony's chest.

“They teach you lap dances back in the forties?” Tony says distantly, groaning slightly as Bucky scrapes his teeth over his collar bone.

“Ain't got a clue what that is,” Bucky says, kissing his way up Tony's neck. Tony can't tell if he is serious or not. Bucky makes his way up to Tony's mouth, catching his eyes, his own lidded with lust. “Learned this in France though,” he says, capturing Tony's lips. Tony thinks Bucky's just doing a play on the 'French kiss' and this is a joke, until he does something absolutely sinful with his tongue.

Tony moans and laughs into his mouth. “Oh yeah?” Tony asks. He cups Bucky's lower back and brings him in close, using his other hand to pop the button on Bucky's jeans. “Learned this in the good old USA,” he says cheekily, sneaking his hand into Bucky's pants and stroking him.

“Gotta love the classics,” Bucky says breathlessly, rolling himself into Tony's grasp.

Tony moves his hands behind Bucky to squeeze the bare skin of his ass and slips his fingers lightly between his cheeks. Bucky startles forward, nearly knocking them both out of the chair, a concerned frown marring his features. He hasn't lost interest, so Tony just moves his hands obediently away and rests them on his tailbone.

“Do you… Do you know what this kind of thing might entail? If we go all the way?” Tony doesn't want to patronize Bucky. But he also doesn't want to initiate something Bucky isn't expecting. Especially considering his background.

“I've… I've done my research...” Bucky answers, a little less sure of himself now. He reaches his hand behind himself and lays it over where Tony's are resting. “Wasn't… Wasn't thinking about doing that just now… That seems like it's gonna take a… a little while.” Bucky's cheeks adopt a light shade of pink. “And I… I uh… I didn't exactly come prepared.”

“That's fine, then,” Tony says easily. “I was hoping you'd let me try something, though...” He taps his fingers underneath Bucky's. “Involving there…. Nothing too much, though.”

Bucky releases Tony's hands to steady himself on Tony's shoulder, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Seems like you're the one who's been trying things lately,” he says, eyes flicking to the side before capturing Tony's again. “I figure I ought to have a turn.” Tony tries not to deflate, but before he can even build himself up, Bucky catches his attention again. “Let me… Let me do what I was gonna do. Then… then you can take the wheel.”

“Sounds good,” Tony says, reaching up and pulling Bucky back to him. He kisses him softly, like a promise. “What'd you have in mind?”

“Why don't you just sit back and find out?” Bucky says. His smile replaces his insecure frown and he swiftly slides off Tony's lap, kneeling at his feet. He skillfully undoes Tony's fly, allowing his erection to spring free. “I haven't… I haven't done this before, so… It might not be the best.”

Tony contemplates saying something snarky, but relents, leaning back and allowing Bucky to do as he pleases. “Not sure you could really mess up a blow job, Bucky,” he says.

Bucky makes a face, inches away from Tony's length. “Not sure you wanna test me on that. I could bite you,” he threatens.

“That could be nice,” Tony says, smirking. Bucky bares his teeth dangerously close to the head and Tony laughs nervously. “Well, I wasn't telling you to take a bite...”

Bucky hums, eyeing him with a cocked brow, before sticking his tongue out to lick tentatively at Tony's length. Tony leans back, avoiding lacing his fingers into Bucky's hair for the time being, not wanting to pressure him. He seems to understand the gist of it, lifting his hand and wrapping it around the side of Tony's length, pressing it to his lips. He looks up at Tony questioningly while he mouths at it and Tony just motions at him.

“I'll let you know if I'm not feeling it,” Tony says, leaning forward slightly. “Go to town.” He smiles gently at the man between his legs. “Honestly, right now I feel like you could bite me and I'd like it.”

Bucky blinks at him, then licks a stripe from base to tip before nipping at the skin of the shaft. Tony jumps. “Jesus!” He laughs a little, catching Bucky's eyes. “I wasn't lying.” He can feel the heat in his face, and he can't take his eyes away from the man before him.

Bucky chuckles and then swallows Tony down without any more hesitation, folding his lips over his teeth this time. He is obviously trying to copy some of the tricks that Tony had tried on him last time, laving his tongue along the underside and sucking gently in the back of his throat. He doesn't manage to get Tony down all the way, but he makes up for it with his hand, stroking and massaging what he can't quite reach.

Tony is starting to lose his very carefully held control, making very small and aborted thrusting motions. He keeps chanting the sergeant's name in encouragement and because if he doesn't he is going to say something embarrassing, breath coming in heavy and he feels himself approaching the edge, until Bucky makes a small choking noise at one of his thrusts and pulls away with a small gasp.

“Sorry… sorry,” Tony repeats, worry overcoming his arousal and he comes forward, hands cupping Bucky's cheeks and turning him up to look at him. Bucky looks more debauched than hurt, pupils dilated and lips glossy and red, curved in a smirk.

“No need to apologize. Just glad I'm doing it right,” Bucky says, licking his lips. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and surges up to kiss Tony heatedly, pulling him forward by the collar of his shirt.

Tony spills forward out of the chair and into Bucky's lap, a reversal of their positions from before, and Bucky ruts against him softly as he kisses him. Tony can taste salt and his own skin on Bucky's tongue, on top of Bucky's natural taste. It is just as addicting as Bucky's skin. Tony rolls his hips forward to meet Bucky's.

Bucky pulls away and stares at him for a moment, seemingly mesmerized before he speaks. “You gonna let me finish up down there, or…?”

“Maybe later,” Tony says with a small smile. “Mind if I try something?”

Bucky sighs, but is not entirely put out over it, so Tony pushes him onto his back on the floor. He reaches up and opens one of the drawers set in a drafting desk, feeling around until he extracts a small tube.

“What's that?” Bucky asks, watching Tony contently from the floor. His eyes keep wandering down to where Tony is still hanging out of his pants, licking his lips like a hungry cat. Tony catches his eyes and cocks his brow while Bucky practically pouts at him.

“Don't make that face,” Tony admonishes. “Look, we'll try this and if you aren't wowed, we can go back to what we were doing,” he promises. He sets the bottle down next to them for when he's ready to use it. Bucky's eyes catch on the label, making a perplexed face. “As for what this is… It's lube. It probably beats anything you used back in your day.”

“Like.. the sexual kind of lube?” Bucky asks incredulously, and Tony breaks out into laughter. “Just clarifying, could be anything considering your profession,” he says defensively. “Kinda weird that you're keeping that kind of lube down here, Tony.”

Tony shimmies Bucky's jeans and underwear the rest of the way off his hips, tossing them onto the chair they vacated before crowding into Bucky's space. “I have a good reason, though,” he breaths over Bucky's mouth. The sergeant opens his mouth, expecting a kiss. Tony leans closer, still speaking. “I have this… I guess it'd be a fantasy. I want to get fucked… or maybe I want to do the fucking… over one of these tables.” Its honestly actually embarrassing once he says it out loud and Tony has to fight to keep his eyes locked on Bucky's and trading breaths.

Bucky seems very aroused by the idea, however. “I'd volunteer. Not… not now, maybe later,” he breaths. “But… but it's definitely… on the table… maybe on your back.” He sounds awkward and bashful, but he keeps his eyes locked on Tony's.

Tony groans and rests his head on Bucky's good shoulder. “Did you do that on purpose?” Bucky laughs. “You did that on purpose.” While Bucky continues to laugh, Tony hooks one of the sergeant's legs over his shoulder, making Bucky bend his knee and tilt his hips up, lifting his ass slightly from the floor. “Your laughing completely ruined the mood, but I'm stubborn.” He kisses the inside of Bucky's thigh. The bruises from the last time he was between Bucky's legs are long faded away, but Tony likes the look of unmarred skin on Bucky as much as he likes the love bites. “So I'm gonna do this anyway.”

“Knowing you, I'll be begging you for it soon enough.”

Tony chuckles and leans over, grabbing the lube and pouring some onto two of his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. He leans Bucky's hips up a little more, forcing him to fold at the waist a bit. He then reaches between the cheeks of Bucky's ass and rubs his lubed fingers there, just running them over his hole, but not penetrating him. Bucky shivers and squirms, but doesn't pull away, watching Tony with apprehension.

Tony continues running his fingers over Bucky's hole, around the small ring of muscle, but not dipping his fingers in. Bucky begins to acclimate, and the previously tensed muscles in his thighs begin to relax. He rests his hand near his head, breathing slowly through his nose.

“Don't go to sleep on me,” Tony warns. “The fun's just beginning.”

“You're going so slow,” Bucky complains.

“Only way to go, Bucky,” Tony says softly. To make his point, he pours more lube over his fingers and dips his pointer finger past the rim of muscle. Bucky immediately stiffens, tensing and clenching on his finger while he pushes a quick breath through his nostrils. “See? Can't go faster if you tense up all the time. It'll hurt,” Tony says sagely. He doesn't retract his finger, but let's Bucky get used to it. In the meantime he sucks a few marks into Bucky's thigh, laving over them with his tongue. Once the muscle under Tony's lips no longer feels like stone, he twists his finger around and pushes in further, searching for that little bundle nerves that will definitely heat this up for Bucky, and hopefully get him to relax.

“Tony, I ain't exactly seeing stars right now,” Bucky says honestly, sounding somewhat disappointed. “Actually, probably would be seeing the inside of my eyelids if you didn't have me doing gymnastics over here. You… you sure you're doing this right?”

“Give me a minute!” Tony says. While he searches inside of Bucky for his prostate, he bites hard at Bucky's inner thigh, making him grunt.

“Don't get mad at me! I just don't think that this is--” he cuts off suddenly as Tony finger brushes over a little bundle inside of him. Tony grins and rubs his finger over the spot gently, and then a little harder. The rest of Bucky's sentence comes out as a moan as Tony gentle runs his finger over it. “Ah… god, what the… what the hell is that?” Bucky leans up and tries to look at what Tony is doing between his legs.

“Found you're g-spot!” Tony gloats. Bucky has a blush high on his cheeks now. He shivers as Tony presses down on the spot again, rubbing lightly.

“You found my what?” Bucky yelps as Tony withdraw his finger.

“Technically, it's your prostate, but it feels good, right?” he asks, pouring more lube and returning his fingers to Bucky's hole. It is more yielding now, allowing Tony to fit his pointer finger and the tip of his middle in and he continues to massage Bucky's prostate while he stretches him. Tony is glad he made the workshop sound proof, as Bucky starts to get a little louder with every stroke of Tony's fingers. “Not so boring now… right?” He punctuates a question with a particularly firm press.

“God, don't make fun of me!” Bucky says, throwing his hand over his face. “Thought… thought the porn actors were just faking it.”

“You watched porn?” Tony asks, suddenly curious. Bucky groans and mutters something about research. “They… they were probably faking it, but this… this is all real,” he explains. Bucky's body yields enough for two fingers, the other moaning at the stretch. Tony stops to see if he is hurting or enjoying it.

“God, Tony! Don't stop!” Bucky nearly shouts. He arches his back and groans, foot pressing into Tony's back as Tony scissors him open. “Thought… thought it was weird at first, but I _like_ that.” He sounds so perplexed that Tony has to lean forward and kiss him. It presses his fingers deeper, and punches another moan out of the man.

“What, you think people do this because they have to?” Tony asks. “Has to feel at least a little good, otherwise no one would do it.” He takes Bucky's hand and gently guides it to the sergeant's erection, wrapping his fingers around it. “Think you can come? With my fingers in you?”

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky breathes, but strokes himself obediently, hesitant at first, a little self-conscious, but grows more fervent as Tony continues to thrust his fingers inside of him. It's quiet then, Bucky biting his own lips and stroking himself desperately as Tony continues to massage him. Tony is quickly figuring out that Bucky seems to just like the feeling of Tony's fingers in him, because he cries out and moans, regardless of if Tony's fingers are on his prostate.

Bucky comes with a shout not long after Tony crooks his fingers, clenching around them hard. Tony bites his lip, thinking about how that would feel on his cock, and feeling immeasurably glad he was able to get Bucky to warm up to the idea.

Tony extracts his fingers slowly, and Bucky moans at the loss, reaching for Tony. “That… that was...”

“What'd I tell you?” Tony says, a note of pride in his voice. “Told you it'd be good.”

“Sure… sure… You were right,” Bucky says. He bats at the back of Tony's head. “Excuse me for being a… a virgin, down there.” The flush of sex in his face is quickly accompanied by a darker one of embarrassment.

Tony laughs, and Bucky surges up and pulls him into another kiss, forcing his tongue into Tony's mouth. He pulls away after a few prolonged moments. “This is twice now I've come and you haven't,” he says seriously, holding Tony's eyes. “I'm gonna fix that.” He reverses their positions again, unhooking his leg from Tony's shoulder and forcing him down. He grimaces at the slick feeling between his cheeks, but still determinedly reaches forward, pushing Tony back to get access to his crotch.

“Other ways to make me come, you know?” Tony says as Bucky wraps his mouth around his still hard length. Tony moans and rests his head on the floor as Bucky starts working him over efficiently. “You'd think I was paying you.” Bucky hums, sending vibrations down his length and up his spine. “I… uh… I don't think I'm going to last long.” He curses as Bucky does his best to affirm his point, tongue rubbing firmly at the slit before he sinks down and sucks. He works slowly downward, and once he manages Tony's entire length, Tony has both hands in Bucky's hair and is reduced to babbling. “Bucky… I don't think… are you okay with… I'm gonna...” Bucky does not let up, though he does choke slightly as Tony comes, pulling away and grunting. “Shoulda'… shoulda' warned you about the taste.”

Bucky looks him in the eye and swallows. Tony's eyes stick on the bobbing of his Adam's apple. For someone who hasn't done this before, Bucky is awfully confident. “Ain't the taste. You think I don't know what that tastes like? I've never given one of these before, but I've been curious.” He licks his lips and smirks. “Was just unexpected.”

“I warned you!” Tony says incredulously. “I said!”

“I was expecting you to come, wasn't expecting it to be so….” Bucky explains vaguely, motioning with his hand. He leans forward and kisses Tony. “Ain't your fault, Tony. I trust you to know what you're doing, so trust me to know what I'm doing.”

“A-alright,” Tony says, a small smile making its way onto his face once he knows that Bucky isn't mad. “Should we… should we go wake up Steve?”

“I think we should go get cleaned up first,” Bucky says. “Then we can go get him up.”

“I am afraid that won't be necessary. Captain Rogers is awake and headed down to the lab as we speak.”

“Shit!” Tony curses, and they just barely manage to wipe their hands down with paper towels and get their pants zipped up before Steve is peaking in at them, telling them that they should get ready to make dinner. He doesn't seem any the wiser to their activities, though he does admonish Bucky about his bedhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	24. Dive Bombers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky keeps track of the two men in his care. Tony finally finishes building a thing or two. And Steve gets even more confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back again with another chapter! I have also managed to go see Civil War and it was absolutely not what I was expecting, but that's not a bad thing! I actually really liked how they handled the concept of Civil War in the MCU... though it really wasn't a Civil War so much, as like, a really expensive civil disagreement.
> 
> Now that I have expressed my opinions on the new movie. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you all so much for your feedback!
> 
> Title is from the Iron Man 3 soundtrack
> 
> Warnings: Tony continues to be anxious, but otherwise I cannot think of anything else to warn you about.
> 
> Enjoy!

The next few days contain Tony flitting in and out of the lab while Bucky and Steve work out cooking in the current age, television, movies and eventually video games. There are no more heated encounters between Bucky and Tony, but Steve still watches them cautiously, like he is parsing them out. It makes Bucky nervous, but Tony practically preens under the attention.

Happy arrives with the suit around noon a couple days later, even though he had to have driven without much of a rest for the second time in less than a month to get to the mansion so quickly. He drops them off along with a box that Bucky eyes suspiciously, only because Steve keeps casting him weird looks at the sight of it.

Tony instructs Happy to stay in the California area to cut down on suspicion, Pepper, or at least Pepper's car, moving from one end of the country to the other would look strange to most civilians, let alone a major agency that capitalizes on spying. Instead, Pepper releases a statement that Tony needs to handle business in the California area to preempt Shield's inevitable discovery and to allow Tony more freedom of movement. She doesn't mention Steve or Bucky's whereabouts, but Shield hasn't contacted Steve for a mission yet, so they could tackle the problem when they got to it.

Tony is even scarcer once Happy leaves. The first day he has his suit, he spends the whole afternoon and night working on it. He pops into the kitchen to eat something Steve forces on him the next morning and watches around ten minutes worth of the news before he disappears down the stairs again. At lunch Bucky gives him a sandwich and a kiss that Tony keeps surprisingly tame, a fact that does nothing to comfort either Steve or Bucky.

The evening brings another disturbing message from the Mandarin, taking credit for several explosions and the deaths of many women and children. This only adds fuel to Tony's fire and he spends another night working non-stop.

The next day, Bucky comes to the lab to find Tony holding a bloodied rag to his wrist. There are little welts all up and down his arms in various states of closing. In one hand he holds a small gun-looking device.

“Holy shit!” Bucky curses, abandoning the plate of breakfast at the door. “What the hell are you doing?! Trying to kill yourself?” He runs fingers over the sluggishly bleeding welt, finding it more bruise than scab, a little pin prick hole a bright red middle. Tony tries to shrug him off, sticking his wrist in his mouth, but Bucky's worry far outweighs his respect for Tony's space. “What the fuck, Tony?” he asks harshly, grabbing the genius's wrist roughly.

“I'm almost done,” Tony says after removing his wrist from Bucky's hold. He flicks one of the welts and there is an odd sound to it before he readies the gun for his other wrist. Bucky catches it and tosses it onto the table.

“What's almost done? Tony, you look like my ma's pin cushion. What are you doing?” Bucky asks, a little softer this time. “You're hurting yourself.”

“Doesn't hurt too bad, just like, a little pinch,” Tony says distractedly. He tries to dodge around Bucky to make a grab for the gun, but Bucky stops him with a hand on his shoulder and then kisses him. It's a short kiss, but it works to pull Tony out of whatever fugue he has fallen into. “Wow, you really want my attention,” he says distantly.

“I want you to stop… inoculating… yourself,” Bucky corrects, making sure to catch and hold Tony's gaze.

“Not inoculating… I'm injecting the sensors,” Tony explains. “I only have, like, three more,” he says, making grabbing motions at the discarded injector. “They might look bad, but that's only because of the tech under the skin. It'll heal up in a few days.”

“You've got more spots than a cow, Tony,” Bucky says incredulously. “And you're bleeding,” he adds, running his thumb over the fresh welt on Tony's wrist and coming away wet with blood.

“Not much,” Tony says dismissively. He sweeps a discarded rag off the back of a desk chair and wipes Bucky's thumb off, and then presses the rag to his wrist. Bucky wrinkles his nose.

“Not much bleeding adds up to a lot when you're bleeding from multiple holes,” Bucky comments, even as Tony dodges past him and quickly injects himself with another sensor. He isn't going to win this battle, and Tony is already a majority of the way done. “How'd you make these to quick anyway? Thought you just started on the suit?”

“I already have the basics for the suit down, and all the parts are easy enough to synthesize. It was just the programming and bio-friendly sensor design that I had to make,” Tony says. Bucky flinches as he lines up another shot and shoots. He shakes away the pain as he speaks. “I've got my own equipment here. For suit pieces and electronics, though the suits take longer to make. These babies….” He taps he little injector on Bucky's shoulder. “...were a cinch to make.”

“Coulda' used a warning before I found you shooting yourself up black and blue,” Bucky complains, hiding his fascination with the small machines. “Real worrying when I walk in and my guy is bleeding all over the floor.”

Tony shoots himself again, shakes out his arm and sets the injector down. “Sorry about that, Bucky,” he says, finally stopping to focus on Bucky's face. “Hey. Hey, you kissed me. Want to do that again?” he asks with a lopsided grin.

Bucky blows air through his lips, but gives in, pressing his lips to Tony's again. He takes advantage of Tony going pliant to swipe the injector out of the way, and push him up against the work table. Tony makes a little surprised noise as Bucky maneuvers his arm behind Tony's legs and lifts him onto the table, making him sit. He pulls away, pressing Tony back when he follows after his mouth.

“I'm going to bandage you up, and then you're going to eat breakfast and take a break,” Bucky asserts. He ruffles Tony's already messy hair and observes him fondly. “Brush your teeth, drink something other than coffee...”

“I need to take it for a test run!” Tony interjects, but Bucky is adamant.

“Later. If Steve catches you like this, he'll panic,” Bucky says. He leaves Tony on the table to pull a first aid kit from the conveniently labeled cabinet. He returns, pops it open, withdrawing bandages and gauze, things that he has become intimately familiar with, thanks to his arm and feet.

Tony is a good sport and squirms minimally as Bucky runs his hand up Tony's arms, locating the small welts, spreading antiseptic over them and pressing bandages gently to Tony's skin, wrapping gauze tightly over the ones that occur in convenient rows. He is sure to make a healthy amount of disproving noises every time he encounters a new welt and by the end of it, Tony looks sorry enough, and also somewhat entranced. Of course Tony, in all his lack of romance, would get tender over first aid.

“There. I cannot believe you injected yourself so many times without stopping to bandage anything,” Bucky says, mouth twisted in a frown.

“It's fine, I practically doused myself in iodine,” Tony says easily.

“That explains the smell,” Bucky comments with a wrinkled nose. “When did you last shower? In New York? You won't be wooing Steve smelling like a garbage can,” he continues. That seems to kick Tony into gear, and he slides off the table.

“Breakfast or shower first?” Tony asks, whisking the plate up off its place by the door.

“Eat. I don't want you passing out in the shower,” Bucky says firmly, ushering Tony to a table.

“But then you'd have to come in and save me,” Tony replies with a wink. “Why isn't Steve in here practicing his mother hen routine too?” Tony asks, shoveling a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

“He's using your gym.” Bucky settles in the seat across from Tony, watching him with a small smile. “He's restless. Like you. Thinks running around and not sleeping is going to help. I don't think the world's going to end while you're taking a nap.”

“You'd be surprised,” Tony says breezily. Suddenly, the tablet on the drafting table starts vibrating and emitting an annoyingly upbeat ring tone. Tony makes to stand, but Bucky beats him to it.

“I'll get it. You eat,” Bucky commands, quickly grabbing the tablet and flipping it open. Happy's name is flashing on the screen, the man's photo lit up just below it. “It's Happy.”

Tony pushes his plate away and motions for the tablet. “Give it here.”

Tony swipes the tablet screen and answers. The following conversation is somewhat disconcerting and Bucky stays out of the way of the screen, but still eavesdrops shamelessly. Happy is complaining about someone named Aldrich Killian who is apparently flirting with Pepper. Tony continues to assert that Pepper is not his girlfriend, so she can flirt with whoever she wants, while Happy insists that the man and his bodyguard are giving him bad vibes.

The conversation ends with Happy stating that he is going to follow the guy, and then hanging up. Tony sits back at the desk and looks up at Bucky. “That was weird.”

“Since when was Happy your personal spy?” Bucky asks, settling back on the bench next to him. He pushes the plate back to Tony who begins to eat obediently.

“I don't know.” Tony shrugs. “I told him to help Pepper out, not to keep her from getting laid.” He shovels more eggs in his mouth. “This is good.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says cheekily. “Are you gonna do anything about this Killian guy?”

“Why should I?” Tony asks. “Pepper knows what she's doing. She won't cut a deal with a guy without asking me, no matter how cute he is.” Tony moves on to the slightly singed toast. “Besides, no one is cuter than I am.”

“Mm…” Bucky hums with mock thoughtfulness. “I might argue,” he teases with a smirk.

Tony looks up at Bucky with a small frown, as if he is uncomprehending of who might be cuter than he is. After a while of chewing, he seems to gain clarity. “You're right. Steve is pretty cute.”

“Now I definitely gotta argue,” Bucky says, a bit firmer. “He's cute like a yappy dog is cute. Not at all.”

“I'm gonna tell him you said that.”

“He's gonna kick your ass for calling him cute.”

"He wouldn't kick my ass. It looks too good."

Bucky snorts and Tony just stares at Bucky for a long couple of minutes while he eats his breakfast. Once he is done, Bucky snatches the plate from him and ushers him up the stairs. They have to sneak past Steve who is sat on the couch drawing before they make it up to the bathroom.

“Brush your teeth, change your clothes, I'm gonna get some water. Steve might follow me up, so you'd best have a decent explanation for the bruises,” Bucky warns. Tony steals a kiss before he is pushed into the bathroom.

When Bucky finally makes his way down the stairs again, Steve is waiting for him. “Is Tony okay?” he asks, sounding worried. His eyes wander down to Bucky's hand, still smudged lightly red with Tony's blood. “Is he hurt?” Steve steps forward, capturing Bucky's hand and examining it. “Are you hurt?”

“I'm fine. It's Tony's…. He's… installing... some new device for his suit, so he shot himself up with all these little doo-dads. He looks like a pincushion, but he didn't seem to be hurting, so I think he's fine,” Bucky assures, recapturing his hand. “If you don't mind, I'm gonna go wash this off, and get him some water.”

“Pepper says he gets like this a lot,” Steve says, following him into the kitchen. “Especially when he thinks there's something threatening him or someone else.”

“Don't I know it.” Bucky shakes his head, using a glass to scoop ice from the bin in the freezer. “This whole Mandarin thing isn't helping either.”

Steve approaches him from behind and places a firm hand on his back. “You've been…. You've been spending so much time caring for him, but… are you okay?”

“I don't know if you noticed, Steve,” Bucky begins, turning and coming nose to nose with the blonde, getting the full effect of Steve's wide and worried eyes. “This is kinda my element,” he finishes, albeit a bit weaker. “I've been taking care of you for my whole life. Now that you're…. You're all big and strong and _responsible_ , It's nice to have someone else to look after.” He tears his eyes away from Steve to fill the glass with water. “It's… it helps, you know?”

A warm hand closes over his shoulder, and Bucky pauses, setting the glass on the counter. Steve doesn't say anything, but folds Bucky into a hug from behind. It's intimate and warm. Steve doesn't nose behind his neck like Tony usually does, but Bucky still loves it. He loves the way Steve presses his whole body to Bucky and breathes gentle and slow.

“He's good for you,” Steve says. It's soft and a little hesitant.

“You're good for me too,” Bucky says. He sets the glass down on the counter and clutches at Steve's arms folded over his chest. “Don't know where I'd be if not for you.”

Steve lets out another hard breath, then lets go. “You'd probably be back with your family.”

“I'd definitely be dead,” Bucky argues bluntly.

Tony chooses that moment to come down the stairs, waving at Steve and grinning widely. “Hey, Steve. Your friend went a little overboard with the love bites….”

Bucky sighs.

Later that night, Bucky and Steve are sitting on the couch together. Tony has banished them both form the lab as he finishes fine tuning and testing his suit. Steve already has several bruises from diving in front of suit pieces that were traveling too fast as they were drawn towards Tony and Tony was tired of having to quit testing to make sure he didn't have a concussion.

Now Steve is drawing, gentle scratches against the nice sketchbook paper that Tony gifted him a few days previously. Sometimes he smudges the paper with his pinky, then uses that same finger to scratch his nose, leaving a little gray smudge. Bucky missed watching this, more than he realized.

Bucky is pretending to read a book while he watches Steve draw. The other man has never liked people watching him, and now he is even more secretive. It's silly, really. He is incredibly skilled, and Bucky has always loved seeing his drawings. It's hardly embarrassing.

Steve sighs, setting his pencil down and snapping his sketchbook shut. Bucky turns the page he has been reading for the past hour and bookmarks it. He looks over at Steve curiously, who yawns and rubs his eyes.

“It's getting late. You want to grab Tony and force him to bed?” Steve asks. "It's been, what... three days since he last slept? That can't be good for him."

Bucky pauses to yawn before replying. “Might as well,” he shrugs. As they both stand, Steve to head off and get ready for bed, and Bucky to storm the workshop, the television flicks on.

“What the hell?” Bucky mutters.

“I am sorry for the interruption, but it appears the Mandarin has struck again,” Jarvis answers primly. The television is broadcasting news coverage of an explosion at the Chinese Theater. “It appears Sir will not want to sleep anytime soon.” Jarvis sounds very mournful at that.

“That's here,” Steve says, sounding somewhat frazzled. “Do they… Do they need help?” Any trace of sleepiness is gone, and he looks about ready to grab his shield and sprint over there.

“It does not appear so. There are few casualties, and many rescue teams are already on site. Dispatchers are not reporting any trouble at the moment.”

Steve still looks tensed and ready, but he relaxes slightly. “I'll… stay awake… just in case.”

“Very good, Captain,” Jarvis says.

“Is Tony watching this right now?” Bucky asks. He is hoping against hope that Tony hasn't seen it yet and will perhaps be able to sleep tonight.

“I'm afraid he is,” Jarvis says, obviously thinking the same thing Bucky is. “He is currently perfecting his suit, no doubt to comb for the Mandarin himself.”

“I'll go… I'll go get him. He knows that's gonna be useless and I'm not gonna let him go flying around in an untested suit,” Bucky says firmly. He makes his way down the stairs just as the television makes the tell-tale static buzz of a signal jacking. The Ten Rings symbol flashes up on the screen and Bucky has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. This guy doesn't quit.

Tony takes this broadcast a lot better than the last, though Bucky almost prefers the outward freak out to the stony silence with which he watches it now. “They're just fucking with us,” Tony says bitterly. “There was no reason to bomb that theater. No one was there, but tourists looking at the outside, and honestly… It's hardly a national treasure.”

“Thought he was taking the whole 'Americans are bad knock-offs' approach,” Bucky reasons. Jarvis has kindly unlocked the door to him, and Tony is sat on the floor, surrounded by small wires and lots of metal pieces. Bucky deigns not to question it.

“Why, though? The Ten Rings weren't looking to make a statement when they kidnapped me. Not their own, anyway,” Tony says, carefully piecing two of the metal bits together and snaking a wire between them. “They were guns for hire. They're interested in money. This doesn't make money, this wastes it.”

Bucky shrugs and settles next to Tony on the floor. Tony looks slightly surprised by Bucky's overall presence in his space, but doesn't tell him to leave. “Finish what you're doing and come to bed. This can wait until morning. I know this isn't your suit you're working on.”

Tony looks somewhat startled, like he's been caught in a lie, which he has, but Bucky hardly sees the point in chastising him over it. “I don't care what it is, but whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. The Ten Rings can wait until tomorrow. All of this can wait until tomorrow.”

“This isn't…" Tony seems intent on arguing, but quickly switches tracks. "I thought I got rid of them all. I thought they all died with...” he trails off and looks stubbornly down at his work. “I thought they all died. Now they're all back and I just… We had enough to deal with. Shield and Hydra were enough without these… these guys. I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible and get back to… what's important.”

Bucky places his hand over the metal pieces, lowering them and Tony's hands to the floor gently. “This is important,” he says firmly. “Not just because these idiots are running around blowing stuff up, but because you've got a score to settle. Your… your goals…. they're just as important as Steve's or mine.”

Tony huffs, setting the pieces down on the floor, looking up at Bucky. “Not just that I'm upset about,” he admits softly. “Why can't I just… why's everything got to go to shit when I've got you both to myself? I want to… I want to spend time with you. This is the first time I've felt like this… You two are more important to me than my work… than… this whole superhero thing...” He pauses, taking a breath. “Don't tell Steve that, he'll try to knock some sense into me.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Guess all that I'm saying is that it seems like the universe isn't satisfied to just… let me be happy… for a while.”

“Don't I know it,” Bucky comments, sitting heavily on the floor with Tony and pressing into his side. “Maybe you could put this all on hold for a bit? You can… you can you enjoy some quiet time in between all the chaos. Steve and I learned that during the war. The world isn't just gonna leave you alone. You gotta enjoy the quiet times as they come.”

Tony nods distantly, mouth thinning into a line. “I… I want to finish this first,” he says, motioning to the mess at his feet.

Bucky sighs, but doesn't deny him. “You want me to stay?” he asks gently.

“Nah, go to bed. This shouldn't take too much longer,” Tony says. He leans his head back to solicit another kiss from Bucky. “I'll be up in a few hours, gotta get this put together and run some diagnostics,” he explains. Bucky nods, standing, he looks over to see Steve stood in the doorway, a worried frown twisting his mouth.

Bucky ushers him out of the lab, walking up the stairs quickly before they begin speaking.

“Is he okay?” are the first words out of Steve's mouth. Bucky just nods. “Is he coming to bed?” Steve asks next.

“Soon. Seemed real adamant about finishing his project. Said he was almost done though.” Bucky sighs. “This is doing a number on him.”

Steve nods, gathering Bucky up into a firm hug. “He'll be okay,” he says. Both of them know they can't know that for sure, but Bucky appreciates the thought. “Let's go… Warm the bed up for him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees and they head up the stairs together, Steve's arm looped around Bucky's.

Steve wakes up to Tony crawling into his side of the bed. Both he and Bucky have migrated to the left, effectively stealing Tony's usual spot. Steve remains still, breathing easy as Tony crawls in and presses into his side, his skin is chilly, and the bandages rasp against Steve's ribs. He smells like metal and antiseptic.

He thinks Tony will fall right to sleep, but unexpectedly, he props himself up. Steve wonders what he is doing, feeling Tony's breath against his neck. Steve finds it harder to maintain his rouse, but manages not to blush under the weight of the stare he knows is on him.

Tony runs his fingers along Steve's arm, muttering something about quiet times, though Steve has a hard time catching it as he focuses on the goosebumps following his touch. Steve makes a sleepy noise and pretends to stir, turning his head towards Tony. Tony leans over him, his weight tipping the mattress and trapping Steve between Bucky and Tony's side. He feels lips unexpectedly press to his forehead and can't help the confused noise he makes. Tony hurriedly withdraws.

“Tony…?” Steve asks, blinking falsely sleepily at the other man. Tony looks tender in the sparse light from the window. His eyes are ringed in shadows.

“Go back to sleep, Steve,” Tony says. He slides down, resting his head on the pillow next to Steve's. “Was just admiring the view.”

Steve obediently closes his eyes, but he can't sleep, not anymore. Tony's actions continue to replay in his mind, even as Tony drops off into an easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	25. Attack on 10880 Malibu Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day starts and ends with trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am back again! This got delayed so long because my elderly cat hurt himself and scared me to death for a week. Turns out he threw his back out, like the old man he is, but he's okay now. This is a long ass chapter, though, so hopefully that makes up for it. I shouldn't really have any more hiccups in updating until July.
> 
> Thank you all for all of your feedback! It's really motivating and I hope I can keep you just as interested as the story starts to ramp up. I'm trying to figure out if this story needs to be split up into multiple parts... I've just never been very good at following up with sequels....
> 
> Title is from the Iron Man 3 soundtrack. 
> 
> Warnings: More canon typical violence for the MCU, struggling with guilt, and Bucky beating himself up over his arm some more.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The morning begins with a phone call. It's early, only a few hours after Tony crawled into bed after a long day and night in the workshop. The buzzing of the handheld stirs all of the bed's occupants and Tony apologizes as he rolls over to answer it.

The following conversation is troubling, and Tony's expression grows dark. “I have to go!” he says, rolling out of bed and getting dressed in a whirlwind. Bucky follows him with concern and confusion.

“What's happening?” Bucky asks sleepily, trailing after him as Tony hurriedly brushes his teeth and then combs the kitchen counters for his keys, all without a word to either of them. Steve is on both their heels, the same questions on his lips.

“That explosion last night, damn it,” Tony spits, by way of explanation. “They… they found Happy.”

“Is he okay?” Steve asks, while Bucky stands speechless, dread striking his core.

“It's… he's hurt bad,” Tony replies, looking down and clenching his fists. “They don't… They don't know what he was doing there. He hasn't woken up to tell them… I've gotta… I've gotta go. Make sure he's alright. Taken care of...” He dissolves into quiet muttering, plotting a game plan for himself.

“I'll come with you,” Steve announces, already dashing back up the stairs to get dressed.

Tony's fingers finally close around his key ring that somehow ended up in the fruit bowl. He relaxes slightly, leaning against the counter to wait for Steve. He looks tired, beyond the fact he hasn't slept more than four hours in the last forty-eight. Bucky acts, striding forward and cups his face, catching his eyes seriously.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks him carefully, holding his gaze.

“This is my fault,” Tony says. He meets Bucky's eyes, and Bucky recognizes that look. He has seen it on Steve when he is blaming himself, when he feels helpless. “The Mandarin's trying to get to me, so he… he attacked Happy.”

“You don't know that. He had a whole spiel planned out for it, right? Happy might just have been in the wrong place...” Bucky tries to explain.

“What the hell was Happy doing at the Chinese Theater?!” Tony shouts. Bucky backs off, hand coming up defensively. He doesn't think Tony will hurt him, but perhaps keeping him close isn't the best choice. Tony's eyes widen, then soften and he pinches his nose hard. “Sorry. I'm sorry. Damn it… It's just so much.”

Relieved, Bucky comes forward again and folds Tony against his chest. “It's okay. Take a deep breath. Happy's gonna be fine.”

“He got hurt because they're after me. He got hurt because of me,” Tony mutters into his chest. “It's not okay.” Bucky can feel Tony fist his shirt, and the tip of his nose press into his good shoulder. He isn't crying, Tony isn't really one for that, but he does breath hard through his nose, his muscles tense and shaking underneath his shirt.

Bucky sighs, but doesn't correct him, just holding him close until Steve comes back down stairs. Tony pulls away from Bucky, keeping a hand on his arm. “You don't have to come,” Tony says to Steve, but he sounds desperate, like it would break him to go alone.

“It's fine. Bucky can't go, and I don't want you going by yourself,” Steve says earnestly.

“Worried I'll drive the car off a cliff?” Tony asks, somewhat bitter.

“No. I just don't think you should be alone right now,” Steve repeats calmly, clapping a hand on Tony's shoulder. “And besides, I know Happy too. I want to make sure he's okay.”

Tony relaxes, looking both enamored by and thankful for Steve, then turns back to Bucky. “You could… you could wait in the car?” he suggests, but Bucky just shrugs and shakes his head.

“Go. Go make sure he's okay,” Bucky says, pulling Tony forward for a kiss. “Harass the nurses, give the media a show.” Tony winces, but he returns the kiss and cups Bucky's cheek. “I'll be here when you get back," he assures him.

Tony nods, and he and Steve make their way out the door, not before Steve makes Bucky promise he will be okay no less than seven times and reminds him of the emergency contacts on speed dial twice.

Ordinarily, Bucky would take offense to how overbearing Steve is being, he is missing an arm, not twelve years old. But once they are gone, he can feel the acute worry that Steve was feeling. Not for himself, but for Tony and Steve. If something happens, there's nothing he can do. He is veritably stuck in the house.

He turns on the news and it's basically repeating the same news Tony got on his phone. Tony Stark's close friend, former bodyguard and driver was hospitalized due to the explosion the previous night. He watches the swarm of media folk around the hospital behind the reporter on screen, feeling his stomach drop. Neither Steve nor Tony were going to like all that attention. Leaving the television on to keep an eye out for Steve and Tony, Bucky settles down on the couch with his book.

Tony grimaces when he sees the media gathered outside the hospital, casting a nervous glance at Steve. Steve doesn't look pleased either, mouth thinning into a grim line. “Don't worry, I know a way to shake them,” Tony says for Steve's benefit, turning down one of the roads and instructing Jarvis to call someone for him. Tony is not by any means media shy, and at this point he would jump at the chance to run his mouth off at some poor reporter shoving a mic in his face, but Steve is of the more reserved sort. Attention, especially considering the current circumstances is going to stress him out. Rather than taking the media circus head on, they pull into the bay meant for ambulances, and park off to the side out of the way of incoming emergency vehicles. The staff standing in the bay are obviously expecting Tony, but not Steve, as many of their eyes widen and they jump as soon as Steve steps out of the car. One dutiful nurse steps forward out of the gathering crowd of medical personnel and escorts them to Happy's room.

Tony never expected to be the one standing at Happy's hospital bedside. Happy might be a bit gung-ho, but he is careful, and vigilant, stronger than anyone gives him credit for. Tony has to bite his lip to keep back the seething anger in his gut. He has to keep reminding himself that both Steve and Bucky are relying on him not to run off and take on a terrorist organization. He needs to be there for them as much as he needs to take down the Ten Rings.

He is pulled out of his musing by hand on his shoulder. “The nurse says he'll be alright,” Steve tells him. "He should make a full recovery."

“Doesn't change anything,” Tony insists. “He got hurt. I'm not going to let that stand,” he continues, fists clenched at his side.

“You know I'm behind you on that,” Steve says, but Tony can hear the conditional nature of his sentence. Before he gets a chance to deny whatever Steve's bargaining, he continues. “But we need a plan… and one that's not 'blow everything up.'”

“That was your plan in the 40s,” Tony points out.

“Nazi's weren't hijacking televisions and we actually saw who was blowing us up,” Steve replies bluntly. “Their attacks were never so… personal.”

Tony looks back down at Happy, shaking minutely with repressed rage, guilt and a little fear. “It's only a matter of time before they attack you too. If they're really after me, this isn't something I can fool around with anymore.” Beside him, Steve sighs and braces a hand on his shoulder. It's so odd that Steve chooses to use that to comfort Tony. He hated when Tony did it to him when they first met, but Tony honestly loves it. Steve's hands are strong and firm, reminding Tony he is a team player now. He has backup and Steve won't let him forget it.

After a conversation with the doctor about paying for Happy's stay in the hospital, they eventually have to leave. Despite Tony's best attempts to keep their parking space a secret, he and Steve are immediately swarmed by the media as soon as they walk outside. A sea of people separate them form their car, blocking incoming ambulances and generally disrupting the hospital. Reporters shove themselves forward and brandish microphones at both Steve and Tony. They ask questions like “What does this mean for the Avengers?” to Steve and “What will you do now?” to Tony, as if either of them have the ability to assemble the Avengers without Fury's okay first. As if the Avengers could actually help in this situation. Maybe Natasha could help, but he wouldn't trust her with a five dollar bill, let alone something as grave as this.

When one reporter asks Tony when someone will kill the Mandarin, it's the last straw. Tony is tired of his own inaction and powerlessness, so Tony immediately seizes his chance. He challenges the Mandarin, on his turf, at his home address. He is ready for the attack when it happens. He knows he is ready and he will protect Bucky and Steve. He will give them a preview of what will happen to Hydra once he gets his hands on them.

After his speech, Steve immediately shoves Tony into the car, tensed and frowning. It isn't quite the reaction Tony was hoping for.

“You just invited a terrorist to your house,” Steve says, once they have driven away from the throngs of reporters. “Not to mention the amount of media attention...” He covers his face with his hands. “What were you thinking, Tony?! We can't… we have to leave again.”

“It's fine. This way he's coming to us. We have the home field advantage. You like that, right?” Tony reasons, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Thought you were all about not letting people push you around."

“I like it when it doesn't endanger my best friend, Tony. He's not like us. Your... my ego doesn't matter here. He's got multiple targets on his back and you just added another one to them!” Steve breathes heavily through his nose. “Damn it, Tony."

“What were you planning on doing?!” Tony demands, white knuckling the steering wheel. “I have no other options. The guy doesn't exist as far as every server, database and satellite in the world is concerned and yet he is still blowing the shit out of whoever and whatever he pleases. The chances of him actually coming to the mansion are slim anyway. It's just a statement. To let him know we're not afraid. To let the world know that he's not anything to be afraid of.”

Tony can feel the glare Steve levels at him. “Your statement just put Bucky in danger.”

“Bucky would agree with me,” Tony insists. And he would, as soon as they got home. Steve would see.

As soon as they walk in the door, Tony has to dodge a couch cushion thrown at him. “Are you an idiot?!” Bucky asks him, already on his feet. The television is broadcasting footage of the mansion, only with a little delay, showing Tony and Steve entering the front of the house.

“It was a statement!” Tony defends as Bucky crowds into his face.

“A statement that just attracted half the paparazzi in the world,” Bucky says with an encompassing gesture. There is the sound of helicopter blades beating the air around the windows and Bucky carefully ducks into the entryway with them. “Thought we were trying to keep me a secret, Tony! This is going to make it a hell of a lot harder."

"If I didn't say anything he'd think he won!" Tony argues back. Bucky rolls his eyes, like it was just his own ego Tony was defending. Tony can feel them approaching an argument, just about ready to start yelling. This is something he doesn't have time for. “I don't... I really don't have time for this. You'll be fine. No one can see inside the windows. Go sit back on the couch. I need to go do something.”

Bucky frowns, his one hand on his hip. “Don't tell me what to do, Tony,” he says with a nasty glare. Tony holds his glare, a desperate look in his eyes, and Bucky sighs, looking down. “Whatever. Go do what you need to do,” he allows.

“Bucky! You don't have to--” Steve interjects, but Bucky interrupts him.

“Steve, if we're gonna be living with this guy… fighting with this guy. Then we have to trust him. Besides, arguing right now isn't going to do shit. What's done is done,” Bucky explains, sounding put out. He levels a look at Tony, waving a finger in his nose. “And you. You're not off the hook. We're talking about this later. All three of us.”

Tony comes forward, relief flooding his system. He is glad that Bucky understands that Tony has something he needs to do, even if he doesn't understand what exactly. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning in to kiss Bucky, but Bucky blocks him with a finger on Tony's lips.

“No. I'm pissed at you,” Bucky says honestly. “I don't like people telling me what to do or making decisions for me. Whatever you're planning, we should have talked about it first. Now go dig us out of the hole you threw us in,” he finishes firmly, pushing Tony away gently.

“I know… I know… I'm sorry. I just… Happy...” Tony tries to explain, hesitant to leave Steve and Bucky this angry at him.

“That doesn't excuse--” Steve begins to say and Bucky silences him again.

“I know why you did it, Tony. We… know why you did it,” Bucky says, throwing Steve a pointed look. The blonde, surprisingly, backs down slightly, chewing his lip. There is something softer in his voice. No longer is he playing the realist, the voice of reason. He is being Tony's boyfriend, leveling with him. “Steve and I would no doubt do the same dumb, reckless thing you've just done.”

Steve gives Bucky an insulted look. “I would not! I would think about it first.”

“Yeah? You thought about it before you gave Phillips the middle finger and went storming into Nazi territory alone to come find me when you didn't even know I was alive?” Bucky asks. Steve remains silent and looks away for a second. “Thought so. And don't you dare say it ain't the same thing. Steve, like I've said, you're pretty, but your skull's too thick.”

“Don't get me wrong, that doesn't change the fact that there are helicopters flying around your house trying to peek in your windows,” Bucky continues as he turns his gaze back to Tony, his eyes softening along with his stance. “You messed up. Go fix it… like you always do.” And Tony can work with that. He can work with Bucky acknowledging that Tony fixes his mistakes, so he disappears down the stairs to finish his investigation. The explosion with Happy has to hold some kind of clue.

Once he examined the scene of the explosion, it appears that Happy indeed had some kind of a clue, as he literally pointed Tony in the direction of it. On the ground, unnoticed by the police and forensics teams, were a pair of dog tags that in turn lead Tony to an explosion in Tennessee, way before all of this Mandarin stuff started happening. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't dealing with a terrorist anymore, at least not a traditional one.

Tony manages to get Jarvis to set a flight plan to Tennessee before he is interrupted by a ringing doorbell.He spares a moment to complain at Jarvis for the outrageous breach in security before he bounds up the stairs before Steve or Bucky can decide they would like to let whoever it is in. When he makes it up to the main floor, both Steve and Bucky are hovering near the door like a couple of kids caught home alone.

Rather than looking frantic like Bucky, Steve just glares at Tony as he steps towards the door. As they all stare at each other, the doorbell rings again, and Tony can see a very familiar face on the display by the door, streaming footage of the front door. She is definitely no one Tony is expecting, someone Tony hasn't seen in years. On the stream, the woman taps her foot impatiently and actually reaches forward to jiggle the door handle. Bucky seems to catch something on Tony's face and acts first. He heads towards the coat closet, slipping inside. “This is the only time I'm doing this for you,” he says, giving Tony a nasty look before shutting the door on himself. He had enough time to go upstairs, so Tony can only assume he is hiding in order to eavesdrop on the strange, new woman at Tony's door.

Steve just glares at Tony before he moves aside for him to open the door. Tony peeks his head out and glares at the woman, keeping the door mostly closed. “If you're about to tell me that I'm a father, you've come at the wrong time.”

“I can see that,” she replies without missing a beat. “Can I come inside? This is important.”

“I can assure you, what I am doing right now is much more important,” Tony shoots back. He makes to shut the door, but the woman shoves her foot in the way. Tony swallows. “This really isn't the time."

“I think what I have to say has a lot to do with what's happening,” she insists. "Its about the Mandarin." Tony groans.

“Okay then. Get in here.” He ushers her quickly into the entryway and practically slams the door behind her. “Make it quick.”

“Tony, we really can't have company right now. We gotta go,” Steve says, trying and failing to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Is that Captain America?” the woman asks, not sounding curious, but definitely a little star struck.

“Who are you?” Steve asks, crossing his arms. He has all, but lost his normal gentlemanly manner and Tony would find it hilarious if everything wasn't so ridiculous and hectic already.

“Both of you shut up. This is… Uh…” Tony looks at her and she throws up her hands.

“You don't even remember,” she says, sounding unsurprised and a bit annoyed. Steve looks at him like he has just insulted her mother.

“This is Maya Hansen,” Tony says finally. Of course he remembers. It has just been a while. “She's an old girlfriend. We haven't seen each other in years. You're what… a botanist? She showed me her work once.”

“I didn't show you my work, you pretended to listen to get in bed with me,” Maya corrects irritably. Tony doesn't need to look over at Steve to see his dark frown. If she keeps talking about his past relationships, Steve is going to decide he isn't fit to date Bucky, let alone have a relationship with the both of them. “And I'm not a botanist, but sure… you can call me that if you want.” She switches gears just as easily as she lost her temper, immediately turning to Steve. “And you're leaving right? Good. I'll help you pack your things.” She actually takes a few steps towards Bucky's hiding place before Tony situates himself in front of it.

“No one is going anywhere!” Tony announces, before Maya can even think about opening the coat closet. “We're staying here. Because there's nothing to worry about. Even if the Mandarin were to come here, I'm Iron Man. What could he do?”

As if on cue, Maya's eyes widen and she points to the television behind Steve. “Something like that?” she suggests. Both Steve and Tony turn to see another helicopter making its way towards the mansion pictured on the live news broadcast. Only, instead of being equipped with camera and sound equipment, it is decked out with military grade weaponry.

They barely have time to act before the helicopter levels itself at the floor to wall window and fires at them, sending the entire room into chaos. Bucky immediately shoots out of the closet as the back window's glass shatters and chucks Steve's shield to him as an RPG hits the floor just inside the window. Steve grabs the shield and then Tony around the middle as the shock wave launches them backward. Tony calls his suit up and sends it to Bucky when he and Maya skitter across the floor with the force of the blast. The suit doesn't close around Bucky until after he hits the wall of the front entryway and falls to the floor, but he is soon ensconced safely in it, protected from falling rubble. Tony and Steve are blown so hard into the living room wall that Tony can't see or hear much of what happens for a few seconds after that. As he is rolling up and out of the dent the two of them made, he can see the tail-end of the Iron Man suit rocketing out of the front door of the mansion. Maya is gone, so Tony assumes Jarvis had the foresight to pick her up as he moved Bucky to safety. Tony can only hope that Jarvis does what Tony instructed him to do in this instance. Get Bucky safe and out of sight, and hopefully dumps Maya in the front lawn.

Tony turns his attention then to Steve, who took the brunt of the blow and is lying prone in the rubble with his hand barely laced in the straps for his shield. Tony swallows and crawls forward, shaking him. “Come on, Steve. Now's not the time for a nap!” he shouts desperately. He slaps Steve's cheek a couple times, but gets no response. The man must have rung his bell pretty hard. Tony doesn't have time to wait for him to wake up, though. As soon as the smoke begins to clear, the helicopter levels itself at the large, blown in window and begins shooting.

“I'm borrowing this!” Tony says needlessly, grabbing Steve's shield from his limp hand and angling it in front of them, curling himself protectively over Steve. The shield takes the bullets without much problem, but Tony, with his lack of footing and lack of super strength, finds it very hard to keep himself steady, bending backward to the force of the bullets. Luckily, before he can eventually fall, Steve's strong hands brace his own behind the shield. They both kneel behind it, Steve's body now curved over Tony's, as the helicopter unloads shot after shot.

“Got a plan?” Steve asks, pressing them to the floor as one shell sails over them and knocks a good sized hole in the wall.

“Not a great one,” Tony replies. He has to hope that Bucky is somewhere safe, because he needs to the suit now. With not much preamble, he yanks his hands towards himself, and a few moments later, in comes the suit pieces. “Cover me.”

There is no way the pieces will situate themselves correctly while Tony is knelt behind the shield, so he has to jump out into the line of fire. Helicopter guns are strong, but not the most precise, so he turns out alright, already with the face plate over his face before the helicopter is even aimed at him. He deflects a few of the bullets with the broadside of his arm and levels his hand at them. After a few tense moments, he is displeased to find that suit won't fire.

“Jarvis?!” he calls. “Where are my weapons?!”

“The suit is only a prototype, sir,” Jarvis informs him apologetically. “There may be a few bugs.”

“Bugs?!” Tony shouts, frustrated. At that moment, Steve chooses to throw his shield at the helicopter gun, slicing it clean off and cutting off the nearly continuous fire. The shield doesn't bounce back, though, falling into the ocean along with the gun, and Tony has to dive in front of the man when another helicopter levels it's gun at them. After some serious manhandling, Tony manages to get them behind the partially crumbled kitchen counter, leaving Steve while he goes to engage their assailant.

The battle is going relatively well, Tony keeping their enemies occupied while systematically taking them out with various furniture. He has just dispatched the last two with a well-aimed kick to an old piano, when the one with the missing gun shoots another RPG at them. It doesn't even need to detonate before the floor crumbles and down Tony goes with the whole front of the house, trapped to a slab of concrete by a cable. Steve is not far behind him, tumbling into the water with Tony's kitchen counters.

Tony doesn't have much time to worry for Steve as his suit quickly fills with seawater. It was already compromised and now the sea is taking full advantage. He loses himself in panic and in waterlogged lungs, gasping desperately and pulling at the cord holding him down. Then Jarvis tells him to hold his breath. He does so unquestioningly, listening to the familiar and calm voice, and his gauntlet pops off, allowing a new rush of seawater in. Tony can barely feel metal fingers wrapping around his own flesh ones, the feeling of escaping the cord, and a weight settling against his chest before he blacks out.

Bucky wakes up to a pounding head, ringing ears and a mouthful of dirt. He supposes that is to be expected when you're fighting a war. To wake up like this at least once and to count yourself lucky. However, there isn't slick mud under his palm, or the buzz of flies in the humid European weather. He can feel cool grass, the branches of a bush brush his cheek and he can hear the sea. He rolls over and sits up, struggling with an uncooperative left arm and nearly vomits when he is all the way up. He may not know where he is, but one thing is for sure: he has a concussion.

He wonders where he is for several prolonged moments, then looks down at his arm and it all comes rushing back. The Mandarin had attacked the mansion. Tony and Steve were still inside.

He scrambles to his feet frantically, pausing only lean against a thin tree when the world pitches him to the left. “Oh god...” he breaths, stumbling through Tony's pristine landscaping in what he assumes is the direction of the mansion. The sun is setting, and he can no longer hear helicopters or fighting. It doesn't bode well for Steve and Tony if everyone is gone and no one came to retrieve Bucky.

He curses, praying to every power he can think of that Steve and Tony are okay as he comes upon the bushes lining Tony's driveway. He ducks into them, peeking out to make sure no one is around. That seems to be the case, at least for the long driveway, but he can hear people talking farther off, along with the sound of things being moved. Bucky uses all of his stealth training from the army to move closer. What he sees, or rather, what he doesn't, takes his breath away.

The topmost floors of the mansion are gone, leaving a sizable hole in the side of the cliff. There are several white vans with construction equipment parked as close as they can safely be to the collapsed front door and Bucky can see what he thinks is Pepper's back as she stands and observes. No one else is on the driveway though, no news vans, or rescue teams, so he sneaks forward and ducks behind one of the vans.

Bucky has never formally met Pepper, but he has seen pictures and videos and heard quite a few stories. He also knows that she's seen him before, so he can be relatively sure she won't freak out when he calls her name from behind the truck. “Pepper!” he hisses, poking his head out from behind the back of the truck. Her head whips around and searches for the source of the voice frantically before her eyes land on Bucky. Bucky can see her mouth open and a breath being taken to shout his name, so Bucky quickly presses a finger to his own lips. She snaps her mouth shut and nods, walking quickly over to him.

“Bucky… thank god! I thought you fell with the house!” she breathes, as she approaches. Her hands come up to prod his head, coming away sticky and red. “You look terrible! What happened? Where were you? I couldn't find you anywhere!”

“Got blown up,” Bucky says, rather insensitively. He flinches away from her further prodding, his own hand coming up to protect the newly discovered gash under his hairline. “Tony's suit threw me out into the bushes.” He looks past Pepper, out to what is left of the mansion and swallows. “Are they…?”

Pepper is quick to assure him, coming forward and bracing his shoulder comfortingly. “They got away!” she says quickly. “I got a message from Tony on his secure server. They're alright. Probably a little cold, since they're in Tennessee right now, but alright.”

“Tennessee…?” Bucky asks blankly, then inwardly shakes his head. Now is not the time. “They're… They're alright...” He says with relief. Then he immediately switches gears. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine. I just came to help with…” she turns to observe the scene behind her. “The cleanup,” she finishes. “Tony had instructions for you too, for when I found you. Come on, before anyone sees.”

She leads him to a nice, but compact sports car, pulls a set of keys from her pocket and unlocks the door before handing them to Bucky and looking at him critically. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Physically? I'm fine,” Bucky says. His head still hurts, but it's no longer rolling and pitching and the pain is a dull roar. “Legally, no,” he admits sheepishly.

Pepper looks startled, but carries on. “He wants you to drive to rendezvous point with a man named Sam Wilson. He's set the location on the GPS in this car. There's a video with more instructions in there, but Tony told me you need to drive straight there. No detours.”

Bucky wants to ask her where he would even go, but refrains, listening to her instructions carefully.

“You need to stay out of sight, obviously, but just focus on getting there for now. Tony said Sam can keep you safe once you get there,” she explains. She squeezes his shoulder again, looking at him with sympathy. “Are you sure you're okay…? You look… bad…”

Bucky grimaces, but nods, setting the world spinning for a moment while he steadies himself. “I can get there,” he states. “What about you? If the Mandarin really is attacking Tony, you're gonna be in danger. You should come with.”

“It would draw too much attention,” Pepper says firmly. “You're supposed to be a secret, right? I can't just disappear with Tony missing like this. I have to keep the company stable.”

“Okay.” Bucky returns the gesture of a hand on her shoulder. “Stay safe.” She nods as he folds himself into the driver's seat of the car. “Aren't people going to notice me leaving?”

Pepper's mouth thins and she nods. Bucky sighs. “Just gonna have to hope they think I'm a member of staff or something...” he mutters. As she begins to shut the door for him, he says, “Watch yourself. I don't think this is as cut and dry as we think it is.”

“You too,” Pepper returns, and the door shuts before she walks back over to where she was standing before, as if nothing had disturbed her silent vigil.

The car, luckily, is an automatic transition. He has never driven one before, but he knows the basics of how it works, which means he won't have to shift. He doesn't need two hands to drive, then. When he sticks the key in its place in the ignition, he jumps as not only the car roars to life, but a screen starts up with a cheerful jingle.

“Voice recognition required,” a smooth, yet clearly artificial voice informs him.

“What?” Bucky says in reply.

The machine makes a little beep and opens up more windows on the screen, showing directions and a map. “Welcome, Sergeant Barnes,” it greets robotically. “Please exit the driveway and make your way down the drive. A message from Tony Stark will begin playing shortly.”

“Wait… what?” Bucky demands, leaning towards the screen and tapping it. It does not react to his touch like Tony's other screens. The map and directions remain unchanged as a little blue 'S' rotates within a circle at the bottom of the screen.

“Please begin driving. Loading message now.”

Bucky pulls out of the driveway, despite his confusion, and as promised, Tony's voice begins to play. He sighs in relief, even if it's only a message.

“Hey, Bucky. If you're hearing this, then shit really has hit the fan,” the man begins, and Bucky snorts. “Luckily, I thought up a contingency plan for this… last night… But still, I planned ahead. Please alert both Steve and the presses.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, because of your current reclusive predicament, you don't have a lot of places to go in case of an emergency. So I called Sam, who volunteered to help you out with this. Sadly, New York is too far from California for him to reach you in any amount of reasonable time, so I left this car out for you. It's stocked with some supplies and programmed to send only you to a safe house and send Sam a coded message."

“Bucky, please follow these directions.” Tony sounds desperate, and Bucky can almost see that earnest pained look Tony gives him. “Don't go after me. If Steve isn't with you, don't go looking for him. Find Sam and regroup. I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. Hell, you've been taking care of me and Steve for months now. But I couldn't… I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you… Not to mention what Steve would do. We need you to be safe.”

There was a long pause while Tony took a breath. “And… And I'm sorry about all this. I wasn't… I'm a… I'm a mess… Got bad luck and probably a metric fuck ton of other problems. But I… I… This might… this might be a bit fast, but god… I love you. I can't… I can't just let the Mandarin kill innocent people… I can't drop that to… to prove that I love you, but I do. Whatever happens, that's not going to change.”

Bucky's breath catches and something warm fills his chest despite the situation.

There is a pause, and then a sigh. “And… Since I've buttered you up with that speech…. I've also included something to protect you in the trunk. It'll only open to you, with both a hand scan and voice recognition. Hopefully it'll lend you a hand. Only open it if it's an emergency, it's still experimental and not that easy to use. Stay safe, Bucky.”

The message ends and the computer interrupts, telling Bucky to take a left at the end of the road. Bucky is seriously thinking about ignoring the instructions and heading straight for where Pepper said Steve and Tony are, but he has no idea where the car is instructed to take him, or how to get from California to Tennessee without a map. He sighs. If Tony and Steve are safe for the time being, there really isn't anything Bucky can do to help them. What good is a crippled war veteran to them when they're being chased by a terrorist organization anyway? Tony had a point about him needing to be safe. He would be one less thing to worry about. Tony already had to sacrifice precious time to protect Bucky during the attack on the mansion, he would probably only get in the way if he found them.

The computer leads him onto a long stretch of road. The speed limit is high, and there aren't very man cars around, so Bucky floors it. He doesn't want to get pulled over by the cops, but he needs to meet up with Sam as soon as possible. It isn't long until he is crossing over the state line, on a completely deserted road. It's pitch dark, the sun having long set. Bucky's head wound is mostly fine. The blood dried to the side of his face is annoying, but the dizziness and nausea with movement has faded quite a bit. He has a headache that probably has more to do with his aching eyes, rather than the knock he took to the head.

The biggest issue is that Bucky is growing increasingly more tired as the night wears on. He has to constantly rub his eyes on the back of his fist, and blink the sleep from his eyes. He is wondering if he should pull over and rest for a while, if that would be too conspicuous, when another car drives up close behind him. It honks at him, but Bucky ignores it. There are plenty of other lanes for it to drive in, and Bucky isn't exactly driving slowly. It obliges and pulls into the lane next to his, keeping level with him. Bucky is about to speed up, not comfortable with being boxed in, but the window of the other car rolls down and Natasha leans out, her red hair apparent even in the moonlight. She motions for him to pull over and Bucky grimaces, hand tightening on the steering wheel. He doesn't know Natasha's intentions with him. Only that she works for Shield and that Steve doesn't trust her. She very well may be trying to get him to pull over, so she can grab him.

It takes Bucky a moment to find the control for the window, and he rolls down the passenger side enough that Bucky can shout at her.

“Sorry. I can't! I have a schedule to keep!” he shouts.

“I can help you, Bucky!” she argues back, shouting over the wind. “You need a safe place to stay. I've got that for you.”

“Sorry, ma'am, no thanks!” Bucky insists. “I've got somewhere I'm going.”

“To Tony and Steve?” Natasha asks, incredulous. “What could you do to help them? That's not a safe place for you to be! What they need from you right now is to be safe!”

Bucky is sure she means well, but that comment on someone else's lips other than Tony's is the last straw. He looks down, rolls his window up and presses his foot down on the gas, accelerating the car away.

“You are going dangerously over the speed limit for this road. Slowing down is recommended for your safety,” the damn automated voice tells him.

“Fuck you! You can't tell me what to do,” Bucky tells it sourly, as Natasha's car falls in line behind his. “Can't believe I'm letting a fucking computer tell me where I need to be going. Get me directions to Tennessee, you piece of junk.”

“I am programmed to direct you to a safe house in a classified location,” the computer says back, completely devoid of the emotion that Jarvis interjects into his speech patterns.

“And I'm telling you to take me to Tennessee. Otherwise, I'm shutting you off and I'll get there the old fashioned way. I'm sure they still sell maps,” he says. “A map would definitely give me less attitude.” Natasha's car is riding directly on his back bumper, a sudden stop away from rear ending him. “Shit. What the hell? I said no. Does this car have any way of shaking pursuers?” Bucky grumbles as he looks at the car in the rear view mirror.

“Please turn left in--”

Bucky feels the tire blow out before the car shows any reaction to it and he has just fast enough reflexes to brake a bit before the car jerks suddenly and swerves to the left. Bucky is not an experienced driver, so he has no idea how to handle this situation other than to slow down and try to pull over. This strategy keeps him from rolling the car, but ends him up in the underbrush on the side of the road, just barely missing hitting a tree and instead he rolls down a steep embankment. He manages to dodge yet another tree, and instead a bush takes the brunt of his crash. Bucky loses time when he jolts suddenly to a stop, the seat belt digging into his shoulder painfully.

He manages to pull his face out of the weird pillow that's inflated to keep him from hitting his face on the steering wheel. It's nifty, but also tastes disgusting, so he is glad to have his face out of it. The car managed to keep him pretty safe through the whole thing and he can safely say he has probably only wrenched his neck and bruised his ribs and chest on the seat belt. That is not to say he doesn't hurt, and he is completely disorientated as he looks around. Did Natasha drive off? What the hell happened with the tire? Did he really go fast enough to blow it out?

“Barnes!” he hears Natasha shout, and the sound of feet crunching through dirt and grass. “Stay where you are!”

Bucky reaches over and pops the door open, managing to stumble out of the car in time for Natasha to find him. “You ready to come with me now?” she asks condescendingly.

“Fuck,” Bucky says eloquently, pressing a hand to his head. “What the hell was that?”

“You blew out a tire,” Natasha explains, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You're lucky you're not dead.” She kneels with him in the dirt. “Let me check you out. You have a head injury.”

“I'm fine,” Bucky insists, backing away from her. He realizes he is being standoffish, but Steve's distrust has rubbed off on him. “Don't,” he insists, even as she gently brushes the hair away from the dried blood on his face. “Leave me be.”

“You hurt yourself pretty bad, Barnes,” she says. "That's a lot of blood." Her hand comes up and cradles his neck, fingers digging into the skin there. “We need to get you medical help.” She reaches into her pocket, presumably to pull out her phone.

Barnes may not be able to see himself in a mirror, but he has been hurt before and is capable of taking stock of his own injuries. He isn't hurt that bad. The gash on his forehead is already scabbed over and healing, it did not break open during the crash, as he doesn't feel new blood trickling down his face. Otherwise, he is just bruised, and a little winded, nothing he hasn't experienced before.

Somewhat confused by Natasha's suddenly worried behavior, he looks over at where Natasha is extracting her phone from her pocket. Only it clearly isn't a phone. The way she carefully folds her fingers around it doesn't match up, he has never seen anyone hold a phone like that. It looks more like she is pulling a knife, but Natasha isn't dumb enough to keep a knife in her pocket. “Stay still, Barnes,” she intones gently, but Bucky surges backward.

“What the hell do you have?!” Bucky shouts, pressing himself against the car and looking for something to defend himself with.

“Calm down, Barnes,” Natasha says calmly. She pulls a syringe from her pocket, it is unwrapped, but there is a sturdy cap on the needle. “It's just something for the pain.”

“You just carry that shit around?!” Bucky demands. She doesn't say anything, just walks towards him slowly, and Bucky slides over the hood of the car, putting a barrier between them. “Stay away from me. I ain't hurt and I'm not letting you shoot me up with that.”

“Steve said you might be adverse to drugs,” Natasha says, as if to herself. “You can inject it yourself, if that would help.” She offers him the syringe over the hood of the car.

As if Bucky is going to inject himself with anything from Shield, or anything from Natasha. He isn't stupid or naive. “I don't know what you're planning,” he growls at her from behind the car. His foot hits a stick and he fights the urge to look down and grab it. Instead he inches it closer to himself. “But I'm not injecting myself with that shit. You think I'm stupid?”

As if a switch has been flipped, her expression darkens and she launches herself over the top of the car at him. Bucky has barely a second to drop and grab the stick, coming up swinging at her. She dodges him easily, and tackles him to the ground, completely, eerily silent. She straddles his chest with an unexpected amount of strength for someone her size, putting heavy pressure on Bucky's bruises and making him gasp. She wraps the fingers of her left hand around his throat, bites the cap off the syringe and brings it down like a knife. Bucky catches her arm and struggles with her as she tries to stick him with it, coughing as her grip tightens on his neck. Natasha might be small, but Bucky now understands why she is a spy, as she easily breaks his hold on her arm and jabs the needle in his shoulder.

Desperation shoots through Bucky like a shock and he immediately bucks and wreaths before she can depress the plunger, knocking her from him. He scuttles away like a crab, kicking up dry dirt and grass in his wake before he reaches up and pulls the syringe from himself, chucking it as hard and as far away as he can. Natasha takes a moment to watch it sail away, and then her face crinkles up in a downright terrifying snarl.

“Damn it,” Bucky breathes, before he stumbles to his feet and makes an ungraceful, loping run to the trunk of the car. She catches him around the legs and brings him down. He kicks her in the face with all his strength. It must be more than she expects, because the kick makes her let go and is pushed a few feet away. She doesn't get back up right away and Bucky hopes he has just dazed her, not broken her neck, before he runs around the back of the car. He makes it to the trunk, that is luckily already partially cracked, and throws the lid open, revealing a black carrying case with Tony's company label on it. He slams his palm on the top of the case, unsure of how to get it open.

“Voice recognition required,” the same annoying voice from the car computer informs him, only this time it's coming from the box.

“Open the goddamn box!” Bucky shouts, slamming his hand on it again.

He only has time to hear the little beep of acceptance and the click of the locks releasing before Natasha is on him again, wrapping her legs around his neck and pulling him backwards into the dirt. Bucky is already unstable on his feet, so he grabs one of her slim ankles and rather than falling on his ass, like she expects, falls flat to the ground like a log. Natasha falls with him, unable to peel her ankle out of his grasp and they both hit the ground. His head ends up hitting her gut hard and she releases a heavy breath. Her legs unwind from his neck just long enough for him to scramble out of their hold, but not before she is able to deliver a powerful kick to the back of his head. He lands face first in the dirt, and she follows after him, another syringe in her hand.

Bucky has to think fast. She obviously doesn't think he is as strong as he is, or else she would not have gone for his legs so readily before. If he can just get close enough to deliver another good kick, he can probably buy enough time to get whatever weapon Tony was storing in the back of the car. He goes limp and feigns being dazed as he breathes heavily into the dirt. He can hear her approaching, soft steps that he would not hear if he wasn't already prone on the ground.

“Stay still, Barnes,” she repeats, and kneels next to his head. Her movements are almost gentle as she cups his head and exposes his neck, bringing the syringe close.

She leans in, and Bucky acts, grabbing a handful of dirt, he throws it in her face before spinning and kicking her with the heel of his boot. He doesn't wait to see if she goes down, only sprinting to the trunk to see the case is open.

Bucky is not expecting what's inside and it gives him pause. It is an arm, made of articulated pieces of polished metal. Is this what Tony was talking about? Something to lend him a hand? Only for emergencies? Did he think this was a joke? Terrorist attacks were not the time for pranks! What the hell was Bucky supposed to do with a disembodied metal arm?

He doesn't have much time to think about that, as Natasha is up and brandishing a gun at him this time. At a loss, Bucky just grabs the metal arm and shields himself with it as she shoots, splattering the side of it with a familiar blue liquid.

“They wanted me to take you in without confrontation,” she mutters, striding forward and eyeing Bucky like her next meal. “But I am authorized to use any force necessary, provided that you live. Put the arm down and come quietly.”

“I just found a new arm. You think I'm just gonna let it go?” Bucky asks, still hiding behind it. She doesn't reply and takes aim at him with her gun. There is no way Bucky can block another shot with this arm. It might be sturdy, but it wasn't wide, only about the size of his own right one. The first shot hitting the arm was just dumb luck. Out of options, Bucky ducks suddenly to avoid her next shot, takes three long steps forward and then backhands the Black Widow with Tony's strange, metal prank arm. It must be made out of some heavy duty stuff, because Natasha drops gracelessly and doesn't look like she will be getting back up.

As a precaution, Bucky steals her gun full of sedatives from her limp fingers and shoots her in the leg.

Safe for the time being, Bucky drops to his knees in the dirt, panting. At a loss, he just stares at Natasha's prone body for a few moments, cradling both the arm and the gun to his chest. “Think we both learned something about underestimating people today,” he tells Natasha's unconscious form.

He stuffs the gun in his jeans after flicking on the safety and looks at the arm, suddenly very heavy in his lap. “Now what the hell are you supposed to be for?” Upon closer inspection, he can see that the arm is indeed a left arm. The shoulder and bicep sections are hollowed out and there is a leather strap folded on either side of the shoulder opening, long enough to wrap comfortably around his torso. “Did you just make me a fancy prosthetic?” he asks Tony. When he doesn't get an answer, Bucky stands, toting the arm back to the trunk of the car and watching Natasha warily.

He searches the box for a note, and finds a small tablet that is flashing with his name in blue letters. “Can't just use a pen and paper, can you Tony?” he says with a fond huff, settling down against the bumper of the car to watch the video, still holding the arm in his lap.

“Surprise! I told you it would lend you a hand!” are the first words of the video, showing Tony giving him a shit-eating grin. Bucky starts planning revenge. “This is your very own, Stark made prosthetic, very advanced… in fact the most advanced and the only one on the market. Lucky you.”

Tony's cheerful expression drops slightly and the screen transitions to a model of the arm. “Now this is only a prototype and since I'm not there, we're going to have to do a quick calibration, but if you would take the next couple of minutes to put the arm on, that'd be great. I'm sure you have an idea of how it's supposed to go on, but just to be safe, here's a picture.” The screen transitions again to a computer model wearing the arm, his whole left arm up to the shoulder swallowed by metal and the leather strap buckled across his chest. Bucky manages to shrug it on and can already feel it pulling all of his weight to the left. He is going to have one hell of a back ache, but he supposes if he gets a blunt weapon attached to his body out of the deal, he can handle it.

“I know it's not the most comfortable, but it's only temporary,” Tony says. “When you've got it on, and situated, tap the screen. Jarvis is telling me to tell you that it should fit you pretty snugly, if not, you're wearing it wrong and this isn't going to work. Now get it adjusted, don't worry, I'll wait.” Bucky agrees that its a snug fit, the metal practically hugs his shoulder and bicep, pressed firmly into his skin. He can feel little rubber pieces that break up the inside of the metal and he wonders if it's for comfort. He taps the screen. “This is going to feel weird,” Tony warns him, just as the rubber pieces sucker themselves to his skin and his whole entire side twitches as a jolt of electricity races up his arm. “If it hurts, get it the hell off!” Tony warns him. “It shouldn't feel normal, though. You are basically reattaching a limb,” Tony continues after the procedure. “Now I need you to do a few things for me. If you can't do them, take the arm off and use it like a big stick. If you can… well, you'll see.”

Tony tell him to lift his right arm, and Bucky complies, though he is unsure as to why it matters. But then, Tony tells him to lift his left, not only does the metal lift, but the pieces from the elbow down are not limp, they move and respond with the rest of the arm. Buck marvels, turning his left hand this way and that, staring at how the fingers curl and relax, how it bends at the elbow. The arm responds to everything he commands of it, albeit with a bit of lag. Tony continues on to walk him through lifting it above his head. A difficult task, but doable. He is also instructed to touch each finger to his thumb. Bucky has no feeling in the arm, which is odd and unnerving, but he can move it, and he can grasp things. He presses his right hand to his mouth, feeling his eyes burn.

“You got it working?” Tony asks, cutting through the silence. Bucky can almost picture him sitting next to him in the lab, gently guiding Bucky through the exercises. Without waiting for an answer, the video continues. “If you haven't pulled it off yet, I'll assume it's working. This is only a prototype, like I said. It's not made to be worn for very long, but it will hopefully get you to where you're going safely,” Tony says.

The screen transitions back to the video with Tony. His eyes are hard and there is a frown twisting his mouth. “If you're in a hurry. Skip this and get going.” There is a pause before Tony blinks and takes a deep breath. “I… I hope you don't hate me,” he says. Bucky shakes his head, even though he knows Tony can't see him. “I don't… this doesn't prove I think you're worthless without an arm, or anything. I think… I think you're just fine… Just as whole or whatever, with or without an arm.” He looks away and then looks back up at the camera. “But I also know your idea of a good time isn't staying home all day. You're like Steve… or me… you gotta… you can't just sit around. I've been watching what that does to you and I don't like it. Just... Think of this like my armor. You know I can't be Iron Man without it, but I'm still Tony Stark, and not to stroke my own ego, but I still got my brain and my skills. Iron Man wouldn't be Iron Man without me.” He makes eye contact with the camera.

“I'm hoping this will keep you safe. It's only temporary, but if you like it… and you don't hate me for it, then we can work on making a more permanent one. It's not something to 'fix you,' or make you better or anything, because you're already you without it. Just think of it like a tool… like one of your rifles or whatever. You're still a damn good shot with one arm, but now you've got two, so it's a bonus.” Tony's swallow is audible in the recording. “Um… I'm not good with this kind of thing, if you haven't noticed. I probably already said this in the other message, but I love you. Stay safe.” The screen goes black.

Bucky is sure he is a mess, dried blood, dirt, sweat and plant matter are stuck to every inch of him, but he can't stop himself from adding to it, tears spilling over and falling down his face. He can feel them streaking through the grime and he makes it worse by rubbing a hand over his eyes. He isn't quite sure why he is crying, if it's the arm, or the fact that Tony has told him he loves him more than twice that day and Bucky can't say anything back, or tell him that he doesn't hate him over the arm. It seems childish, to be sitting on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere crying over a gift his boyfriend gave him, but there isn't anyone to see, so he lets himself have a moment.

After a few minutes, he snuffles and makes his way to his feet. He cautiously approaches Natasha and is quick and careful about searching her for her keys. He finds them in one of her pouches, along with more blue tinted ammo for her gun. He takes both and heads for the road. When he went off the road, it seems his car went quite a ways, because Bucky can't even see the road from the car and it takes a good amount of jogging before he finds it. When he gets there, not for the first time that day, he is not happy about what he sees. There is what looks like a police officer inspecting Natasha's car, a flashlight shining in one window, his patrol car parked and idling behind them. He looks up and Bucky adopts a frightened face.

“Are you alright?” the police officer asks.

“Thank god, you're here!” Bucky shouts, speeding up his run. “Someone crashed!” he approaches the police officer, but keeps somewhat in the dark, trying to hide the state of himself and his arm.

“Are you alright?” the police officer asks again, coming towards him and shining the flashlight in his face. Blinking, Bucky fights the urge to back up, clutching his metal arm behind himself. “You don't look so good.”

“I tripped going down the hill,” Bucky says. “B-but that's not important!” he interjects, before the police officer can say anything. Bucky is very aware that he looks more like he wrestled a bear in the mud than tripped and rolled down a hill. “They crashed! And they aren't moving! Come on!”

“Say,” the police officer says, adopting a tone that Bucky does not like. He drops the flashlight to his side, flicking the light off. “Was the car that crashed red… Probably a Porsche?” he asks. Bucky swallows, he isn’t sure if that's the make of his car, but that is definitely the color. Bucky nods, trying not to let his nervousness show. The man smiles.

“Thanks.” He walks up to Bucky slowly. “Sorry, guy, but I'll need you to stay here... So I can take your statement.”

"I... I really can't," Bucky says hesitantly. "I have somewhere I need to be... my... my mom's in the hospital... gotta get there quick," he lies as best he can. He is sure he looks frazzled enough to be a man rushing off to see his sick mother.

"That's unfortunate," the cop says darkly and Bucky is getting the feeling that the man is not actually a cop. "I can't have you running off either... you've seen too much after all. I'm gonna have to kill you."

Bucky backs away from him. “Not you too...” he mutters.

The man tilts his head. “Me too?” he parrots, before he charges forward and knocks Bucky on his ass with a puncb. “Nevermind. I'm gonna need you to die. It's a tough break, I know, but I'll try not to make it hurt.”

He looms over Bucky, and Bucky growls, grinding his teeth. He doesn't have time for this. He launches forward and rams his metal fist into the man's jaw. Bucky watches, wide-eyed, as the man's jaw practically folds under his fist and he collapses to the ground. He makes an odd gurgling noise that comes with severe injuries and Bucky stumbles back. “Holy shit… holy shit… it'd have been nice to know how strong this thing was, Tony!” he shouts, frantic.

The man is still twitching on the ground and Bucky would apologize if the man hadn't been intent on killing him to begin with. Instead, he dodges past him and crawls into Natasha's car, slamming the door and jamming the keys into the ignition. The car is just starting up when a glowing orange hand shoots straight through the driver's side door and then tears the entire thing off. Bucky yelps and shuffles back into the passenger seat as the man, now looking like he has flames brewing under his skin, advances on him.

“Say, that arm looks like something of Stark's,” the man says casually, as if he hasn't completely torn the door off of a car with his bare hands. He climbs into the car after Bucky. When he grips the steering wheel, it melts, and his other hand warps the leather of Natasha's driver's seat. “You sure you're not the one that crashed?”

Bucky manages to get the passenger side door to open and he tumbles backwards out of the car. “Don't run away. We're having a conversation,” the man cajoles and picks the car up and moves it out of the way.

“Holy shit. You're not messing around,” Bucky says quietly and the man laughs. “I don't… I don't know anything about Stark.”

“You sure?” the man asks. “I'm pretty sure that's something someone who knows a lot about Tony Stark would say. Besides, where'd you get that metal arm, if not from Stark?”

“Military,” Bucky spits. He stands, stock still in the middle of the road, stance wide and ready to flee. There's nowhere else to go, however. Bucky could run, but he isn't sure it would do much good.

“You see, I've been sent out to catch whoever it is that left Stark's mansion in that red car,” the man explains, sauntering towards him. The flames have receded in his skin, but his eyes still glow dangerously in the dark. “I'm thinking that if Stark liked you enough to build you an arm and borrow his car, you must be pretty important to him, right?” Bucky doesn't say anything, but the man doesn't seem to care. “That's what's gonna keep you alive. 'Cause my boss wants me to bring back the person Stark sent running alive.”

“Your boss?” Bucky asks.

The man grins. “The Mandarin.”

“Oh,” Bucky says intelligently. He takes a breath, trying to regain his composure. “Well… you see…" he begins, mimicking the man's speech patterns. "...the Mandarin's been causing Tony a lot of trouble. He's been looking for him for days now, and since you work for the guy, you probably know where he is, right?” The man just continues to grin at him, advancing slowly. “How many hits will it take before you tell me what I want to know?”

“Excuse me?” the man asks. His smile is somehow darker.

Bucky doesn't wait for the man to get to him. He might be exhausted and battered, but he has a shiny new metal arm, a chip on his shoulder, and he can still fight. He charges forward and punches the man right in the solar plexus. The man coughs slightly, and grabs Bucky's arm, not bothered. His hands steam where they make contact with the metal and it dents under his touch. Bucky shakes his hand off, and the man steps back a few feet. Bucky doesn't let up, he lands another hard hit on his jaw and kicks him into Natasha's car. The man leaves a light dent in the trunk when he hits, but gets up, uninjured and glowing orange.

“I'm supposed to take you alive, and you're making this very hard,” the man says. He catches Bucky's next punch with ease and crushes his fist like tin foil. The feedback the sensors give him is disorientating. It isn't pain, but it is an inherent sense of wrongness that causes Bucky to stumble. The man takes the opportunity to jab his knee right in between Bucky's ribs. Bucky can feel them bend under the knee and coughs hard. He slumps forward over the man's leg. “You put up a good fight, guy, but you're just not on my level, yet.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky says hoarsely. He breaks the man's grip and stumbles back, pressing his right hand to his ribs. With his left, he clubs the man upside the head with his broken fist, following him down to the floor. “Not on your level, my ass!" Bucky shouts as he hits the man again in the face. "I just took down a goddamn Shield spy, you think just because you glow orange, you're any better?” he shouts at the man, driving his fist into the man's face. “You might have that neat regeneration ability, but can you regenerate faster than I can punch?” He hits the man again, not giving him time to answer. “I could take you with both my arms tied behind my back, you bastard!” This time when he hits the man, he does not move again.

Bucky breathes heavily and stands. “I know you're not dead. Tell me where the Mandarin is and I'll let you go with most of your teeth.”

Over his panting, Bucky suddenly hears the shearing of metal and he looks in the direction of it quickly, only to be greeted by Natasha's bumper clocking him in the face. It hits him hard, snapping his head to the side and stealing his vision from him for a few seconds. He can't help it, he collapses to his knees, and then onto his stomach. A guy can only take so many hits to the head before he passes out, which is what Bucky is precariously close to doing.

“What… they're two of you?” Bucky slurs, looking up through graying, blurring vision to see another man standing over him.

“I know… it's not fair, is it?” The other man kneels over him. “Why don't you take a rest and I'll take you to the Mandarin. Just like you wanted.”

All Bucky hears as he loses consciousness is the man's condescending laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)!


	26. Heat and Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony crash lands, breaks and enters, and destroys a town's main street, all in one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I'm caught up with chapters again, which means I need to start writing quickly, so I don't lag behind. This chapter is definitely not nearly as long as the last one, but hopefully you all still like it.
> 
> Title is, again, from Iron Man 3
> 
> Warnings: more canon typical violence, as well as flashbacks and panic attacks are depicted.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all your feedback!

Tony's crash landing is less than graceful, though he supposes that is why it's called a crash landing and not a skilled one. Though he manages to keep his impromptu passenger, Steve, from getting any more injured than he already is, so he counts it as at least half of a win. When Tony manages to extract himself from the suit, losing Jarvis completely, Steve is laying in his lap, unconscious. He comes to two realizations: one, it is absolutely freezing outside the suit's malfunctioning climate control, and two, Steve is even colder than Tony is.

“Jesus! Steve!” Tony shouts as soon as his rattled brain catches up with his situation. He leans down and gathers Steve more fully into his arms, holding his face in his hands. The man is shivering in his hands and his hair is frozen at the tips. Snow lands on his cold skin and doesn't melt. “Don't go under on me. I'm not thawing you out again!” Tony scolds. At his voice, Steve blinks hazy blue eyes at him, but doesn't respond otherwise, which prompts Tony to give him a very frantic, but thorough once over.

Steve is bruised in more than one place, and his nose was obviously bleeding at some point. There are a multitude of minor cuts and scrapes as well, but otherwise, he is uninjured. The biggest issue is that he is obviously cold, quickly moving into hypothermia territory if he isn't there already. He is shivering, albeit in little tremors, so that is a good sign, but Steve isn't responding well to Tony's movements, sluggish, weak and more than a little distracted, which is not good.

Tony is glad Jarvis thought to grab Steve as they were making their escape, but he wishes he had chosen to stop earlier to insure Steve didn't freeze to death or suffocate during flight. As it is, considering how he was functioning at the time, Jarvis did the best he could.

Tony gives Steve another shake, but the man doesn't respond, head lolling on his shoulders. “Come on, Cap, let's get you some place warm,” Tony suggests gently, pulling Steve's arm over his shoulders. His knees shake a bit under Steve's dead weight. “You'll owe me for this. You're really heavy.” He looks back at his suit and makes a mournful sound. “I'll be back for you, buddy. Don't go anywhere.”

Tony pauses a few times on their trek, once to steal a poncho off a stereotypical, wooden Native American statue for Steve. Then he manages to jam himself and a mostly unconscious Steve into a phone booth, so he can leave a message for Pepper with instructions for herself and Bucky, assuming the Sergeant didn't go running off by himself.

After that, it isn't long before they are approaching a wooden shed next to a similarly designed house. It's not ideal, but it looks warmer than outside and has electricity, so he breaks the lock on the door and drags himself and Steve inside. Steve, he deposits on the couch and throws the afghan strewn over the back onto him. Then Tony goes to look for ways to warm up the room. With how furnished the shed is, and the workshop-like quality to it, there must be a heater in it somewhere.\

As predicted, Tony finds a tiny space heater tucked into the corner of the room near the desk. He starts dragging it to Steve, roasting his frozen fingers in the process, when someone opens the door. Tony turns abruptly, fists raised, and is almost shot in the face with a potato. Instead, it misses his head and hits a lamp, shattering it in a shower of glass and sparks. Steve flinches at the noise and groans as Tony takes in their assailant. A young boy, blond, curly hair framing his face in an unfortunate haircut that looks home done. He is dressed lightly for the weather, so he must belong to the house next door. He is currently no longer looking or aiming at Tony, having moved his attention to Steve laying prone on the couch.

“That's Captain America,” the boy breaths. It figures Steve would be more recognizable than him. “Is he… what happened to him?” Tony looks over at the man on the couch. Steve is deeply unconscious again and his lips are pale and tinged slightly blue.

“He's freezing again,” Tony explains. “Close that door and help me push this over to him.” The boy is quick to comply, despite seemingly not knowing who Tony is at all. He shuts the door as Tony finishes pulling the space heater over and plugging it in.

“Do you have anymore blankets?” Tony asks as he tucks the blanket tightly around Steve's chest and chafes the fingers of his right hand. Because of the way the heater is designed, he can't stick it under the blankets with Steve, so he has to be satisfied with having it close. He turns just in time to see the boy launch out of the shed at a run. “For the love of god, do not call the police...” Tony mutters. He turns his attention back to Steve, who is still shivering and cold to the touch, despite the space heater raising the temperature significantly.

“Come on, Steve. Wake up for me, alright? Gotta make sure you're not turning back into a capsicle,” Tony says softly, tapping Steve's cheek. “You gotta wake up and greet your new biggest fan when he gets back.”

Steve manages to pry his eyes open. He looks scared for a split second before he takes in the wooden structures around them and finally looks at Tony drowsily. “You're bleeding,” he slurs, a clumsy hand coming up to wipe at the bridge of Tony's nose.

“No wonder the kid shot at me. I probably look like a serial killer,” Tony says, pulling a corner of his shirt up to wipe at the blood as Steve paws at his wrist.

“You don't look like a serial killer,” Steve says quietly. “Look kinda nice… if you ask me. Without the blood” He shoots Tony a sideways smile and motions to his hair. Tony's own hand mimics the movement and Tony smiles slightly. Steve is a fan of helmet hair, apparently.  Steve's smile drops a few seconds later as his train of thought derails. “S'cold.”

“You're the cold one,” Tony corrects, running his fingers through Steve's hair comfortingly, despite himself.

“I don't… I don't like it,” Steve whines childishly. There are tears at the corners of his eyes, and Tony thinks that if Steve starts crying, he might too. Instead, Steve looks up at Tony imploringly and asks, “Where's Bucky?” before he curls in on himself miserably.

“Bucky's driving somewhere safe. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that, but we were strapped for time and you were… mad at me,” Tony says, trying to be kind. Steve sniffs and his frown deepens.

“But where is he?” Steve repeats. And that is how Tony knows that Steve isn't really with it yet. “Gotta find him… think he's bleeding too.” Steve levers himself up, arms shaking under his weight in a way that terrifies Tony. Captain America should never be this weak and coltish, yet here Steve is, freezing and caught between two moments in time. At least he hasn't called Tony 'Howard,' yet.

“No, no. He's okay. I took care of him. He's safe,” Tony insists. He gently pushes Steve back down onto the couch. “Do you know where you are right now?”

Steve casts another look around, but his eyes are drooping and cloudy. “Where's Bucky?” he repeats, but doesn't attempt to move anymore, just closes his eyes and passes out again.

At that moment, the boy returns, lugging a stack of comforters and a heated blanket, the cord trailing behind him. He drops them unceremoniously on the floor, but is quick to help Tony cover Steve up.

“Is he gonna be okay?” the boy asks, wide-eyed at Steve's shivery form.

“He'll be fine, just needs to warm up,” Toy says, more to himself than the kid.

“Who're you?” the kid asks him then, without much deliberation. He doesn't have his potato gun with him, but he looks ready to fight Tony regardless.

“I'm Iron Man,” Tony says without much thought. The boy marvels at him for a second before looking distrustful.

“If you're Iron Man, then where's your suit?” he challenges.

“Once ol' Cap over here warm up, I'll go get it,” Tony says. He resists the urge to push the boy out of the shed. He had been helpful, but now he is seriously intruding on Tony's vigil for Steve. Steve doesn't even seem to notice the boy in the room, only shivering under the new blankets. Tony frowns, worried for him. No doubt, Steve is fighting more than potential hypothermia.

“When will he be okay?” the boy asks.

“Do I look like a doctor to you?” Tony snaps, looking over at the child. For his credit, the boy doesn't even flinch, just gives a hard look.

“You look like a murderer,” the child says. Tony can't be sure if he is speaking honestly or sarcastically. He obviously didn't call the police and hasn't run screaming yet, so Tony must not look too terrifying. “Besides, if you're Iron Man… you're dead.”

“Huh?” Tony asks despite himself. The boy gets up and goes to the door, pulls a newspaper out of the satchel sat there and chucks it at Tony. It nails him squarely in the chest. The first page has his face plastered on it, with “TONY STARK PRESUMED DEAD,” plastered on the front. “You little shi--” Tony coughs and cuts himself off. “You knew I was Iron Man.”

The boy just smirks at him. Oh, so he is that kind of kid, then. Tony huffs.

Steve curls up a bit more and peers at Tony and the boy from over the top of his blanket mountain. His eyes look a bit clearer, which relieves Tony, if only marginally. “Where am I…?” he asks, eyeing the child and then looking up beseechingly at Tony.

“Back with us?” Tony asks, patting the vague Steve shaped lump under the blankets. “We're in Tennessee because Jarvis doesn't understand the difference between an emergency flight plan and a suggested flight plan. You were turning into a Capsicle again, so I carried you to this poor kid's shed.”

“It's my workshop,” the kid corrects him. “And my name's Harley,” Harley says.

“Nice to meet you, Harley,” Steve says obligingly, even as Tony huffs again. “I'm Steve. Thanks for letting us use your workshop and blankets.”

“No problem. Mom's not home, so she won't care,” he says, shrugging.

Steve does not look as concerned as Tony would think he would be about a kid staying home alone. Then again, Steve grew up in a time when it was normal for kids to drop out of school at Harley's age, so maybe it isn't so shocking.

“Who _is_ home,” Tony asks, having no desire to encounter the boy's father, or older siblings.

“My mom's at work and my dad left to get scratchers…. I guess he must have won, 'cause that was six years ago,” Harley says noncommittally.

Steve looks pained at the statement, but Tony is quick to change the subject, not one for talking about absent fathers. “Fathers leave, there's no need to be a pu--” He looks at Steve and corrects himself again. “A pansy about it. Now let me tell you what I need you to do.” Tony hunkers down and makes eye contact with the kid, ignoring Steve's disapproving noise. “This guy needs to be kept warm, keep him on the couch, get him something hot to drink, maybe something to eat, if you're feeling generous. Make sure he doesn't get off that couch because he will try and then he will freeze and you'll be stuck with a Captain America shaped popsicle in your yard.”

Harley nods seriously at the odd request. “Good. Counting on you,” Tony says, patting the kid on the back as he goes out the door. As soon as he steps foot in the cold, though, Tony backpedals.

“On second thought,” Tony says, peeking back in the door at the two of them. “Your dad happen to leave a coat behind?”

“Tony!” Steve scolds, but the boy just nods.

“Yup!” he says. “Follow me.” Then Harley leads a complete stranger into his house, dresses him in his father's old mothball eaten clothes, and proceeds to busy himself with gathering supplies to make hot chocolate for Captain America as Iron Man leaves to trudge through the snow to find his suit. If nothing else, the kid really is a trooper.

Steve is asleep again by the time Tony makes it back, dragging his suit behind him. Harley greets him at the door to the shed with stars in his eyes. “Woah,” the kid breathes, opening the door for Tony to come in.

“Yeah. Help me with him,” Tony says, hefting the suit's considerable weight onto the table, Harley's small hands attempting to direct it.

“What happened to him?” Harley asks once they have succeeded. He perches himself on a stool and messes absently with Iron Man's fingers. He breaks one of them off and looks to Tony with a comical look of surprise.

“What are you doing?!” Tony demands, though it isn't harsh. He has to repress a snicker as the boy looks stubbornly not-guiltily guilty. “He's hurt and you what? You just pull his fingers off?”

“Sorry,” Harley says, trying to stick the finger back on where it belongs and sounding decidedly not as sorry as he should.

“Never mind. I'll fix it,” Tony says. The boy is surprisingly relaxed for having two superheroes in his shed. “You read the paper, right? About what happened?”

“It didn't say you got all banged up,” Harley says defensively. “Just said they couldn't find you in the rubble, and that you were probably dead.”

“Hm...” Tony hums, grabbing the finger from where it is haphazardly stuck on Iron Man's hand and tossing it in contemplation. “We almost died, but we got out okay. Not dead.” He tapped the Iron Man helmet, and it makes a hollow sound. “I'll fix him.”

They sit in silence for a while, listening to Steve breath softly over the hum of the space heater before Harley speaks again. “You know, if I was gonna make a suit… I'd put, like, those retro… retroreflective panels on it… make it… make it stealth.” Harley gets stuck on some of the words, but it's surprisingly a brilliant idea.

“You want a stealth suit?” Tony asks. He sits back, thinking. “That's a good idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I'll build that,” Tony says. For the first time, he actually looks at the kid and their surroundings. He is obviously smart, and resourceful. Using hamster cage pieces to make a potato gun, rather than pvc pipe was probably cheaper for him. He also has to be some measure of mature, because he is home alone with his sister and they aren't both running around naked in the house or in the snow screaming. Regardless of what his mother may think of him, he is able to take care of himself and others, something rare for his age. He is probably more responsible at his age than Tony is at forty-three.

“I need another favor,” Tony says suddenly. Harley looks up at him incredulously. “Don't look at me like that. You do this for me, I'll do something for you,” he promises. He pauses, then heads over to the suit, pulling out a small, defensive device out of his suit's arm.

“Do you know what this is?” Tony asks, showing it to the boy, pinched between his finger and his thumb. “It's a pinata for a cricket-- no, I'm just kidding. It's a very powerful weapon. Call it… insurance. Against the kid who bullies you.”

Harley reaches for it immediately, but Tony dances it just out of reach. “Ah-ah… you have to help me first.”

“What do you want?” Harley asks, almost pouting. That would probably work if the kid wasn't aiming it at Tony.

“First, food for Steve and I. We haven't eaten since breakfast and Steve's got a metabolism like you wouldn't believe. Second, I need a disguise, so does Steve. Third, a digital watch. Fourth, information on whatever explosion happened here a while back. You deliver newspapers, you've probably heard of it.”

“That's not one thing!” Harley argues, but he snatches the device out of Tony's hands and stands. “You gonna fix Iron Man?”

“Yeah. As soon as my friend isn't starving to death on your couch,” Tony says. He snaps his fingers. “Chop-chop, Ralphie.”

Around an hour later, Steve and Tony are fed, they have more absent father clothes to dress in, and Tony is sporting a Dora the Explora watch in the most manly way possible, with pride and flourish. Most of what the kid had to dress Steve in is much too small for him, but they manage to cobble something together and Tony promises a shopping trip for Steve as soon as he can get access to his secret accounts. Regardless, Steve doesn't look half bad in plaid and work boots.

They first visit the scene of the explosion. It's grisly, shadows of disintegrated people, dark against the brick wall remains of a building. There are flowers set around, highlighting that these people were loved, still are loved, and it makes Tony's stomach twist. Why hadn't they heard of this before?

In addition to making him feel bad, the site, coupled with Harley's bombardment of innocent, yet troubling questions, send Tony spiraling into panic again. All at once he feels a quick surge of nervous energy and he can't breathe. He runs a few steps and collapses into the snow on the side of the road, both Steve and Harley are not far behind. Harley keeps asking questions, that send Tony's heart rate up and lock his lungs. Steve calls his name and hushes Harley, and Tony feels his face heat with shame. Steve shook off being half frozen like a champ, and here Tony is, unable to grapple with his experience that feels like forever ago. He feels pathetic.

Regardless, he does his best to pull himself together. He scoops snow off the ground and buries his face in it, a feeble attempt to make himself more present. It works, more or less. He may have just inadvertently used a real life grounding technique, and Harley's rambling eventually yields information Tony can do something with. That and Steve's firm hand around his bicep, put Tony back on solid ground.

“Tony, you back?” Steve asks softly. Tony is so thankful that he asked that instead of “are you okay?” because Tony could not honestly answer the latter question.

“Yeah… I'm… Yeah,” Tony says, breathing. Harley is blessedly silent, but still observing them closely, perplexed. “Embarrassing, right? Can't believe I lost myself there for a second... all over nothing.”

“No, Tony,” Steve says firmly, holding both Tony's shoulders. Tony gets a good look at Steve's face, then. His eyes are dark, bags cling to his lower lids despite the amount of rest he has gotten that day, and he is still too pale. “It's not embarrassing.”

“Wilson tell you that?” Tony asks, hurriedly flicking his eyes away to avoid Steve's gaze.

“Maybe. But I'm only repeating it because its true,” Steve says, so earnest it physically pains Tony.

“Okay,” Tony says dumbly. He braces himself on Steve's biceps and gets himself steady. Steve doesn't let go of him until he is sure Tony can stand on his own.

Harley looks confused by the proceedings, but bounces back quickly, as kids do. “The bar is this way,” he says, pointing down the street. “I don't think any clothing stores are open right now, though. It's too late, but she probably won't recognize you two like that.”

Tony takes another bracing breath and gets his mind back on track. Right, they're meeting the mother of the bomb guy, getting information. He can do this. He has Steve, and Harley, for that matter. He doesn't have to do this alone. “Okay,” he says again, dusting the snow off the knees of his pants. “Let's go. Harley, go make yourself useful and see if anything's open.”

“Keep out of trouble,” Steve says seriously, fixing Harley with a stern look. “Maybe you should head home. It's freezing out here.”

“It's not that cold. Are you cold?” Tony asks Harley seriously. He doesn't wait for Harley to shake his head yes or no. “He'll be fine. He's a big boy. Let's go.”

Steve relents and reluctantly follows Tony in the direction of the bar. “Do you even know what the woman we're looking for looks like?” Steve asks, crowding close to Tony. They aren't holding hands, but they might as well be with how close Steve is to him. Tony can feel him still shivering, despite the heavy winter coat he is wearing, and the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. It is hilariously green and red, a gift from Harley's mother to Harley and Steve is ridiculously gentle with it.

“She'll be the only woman over thirty sitting alone at the bar,” Tony says with a shrug. “If not, I've got cash. I'm sure someone knows where she sits, and money talks.”

“What are we even going to do when we find--” Steve cuts off as a woman walks into him. She almost falls to the ground, but Steve is quick to catch her around the shoulders, steadying her.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” he says in that overly polite tone. She looks up at him and then Tony. She isn't dressed for the weather, just a light suit jacket pulled over a button down shirt with a knee length skirt, no stockings. Tony almost shivers in his thick flannel and vest. She looks up at him and the chilly wind blows a bit of her bangs out of her face, revealing heavy scarring.

“Nice… haircut, it suits you,” Tony says, justifying his staring. Steve looks about ready to hit him. Tony isn't staring at her face though, he is looking at her state of dress in such cold weather. Scars are normal, immunity to cold is not.

“Thanks. Nice watch,” she says, looking down pointedly at Harley's sister's limited edition Dora the Explora digital watch. It isn't, by any means, the most glamorous of accessories, but it serves its purpose just fine.

“It's limited edition,” Tony informs her, smiling slightly.

“Oh, I don't doubt it.” The woman's eyes slide to the side, obviously uncomfortable with the whole exchange. She excuses herself politely and speed walks away, heels that are definitely not weather appropriate clicking on the frozen sidewalk.

“What the hell was that, Tony?” Steve hisses, sounding both confused and appalled at Tony's behavior.

“Did you see the way she was dressed?” Tony asks defensively, even as Steve sticks his nose inches from his own.

“You're hardly in the position to be criticizing someone's fashion sense, Tony,” Steve says. Tony would be insulted if he wasn't wearing another man's clothing.

“I think I pull off country bumpkin very well, if I do say so myself,” Tony defends. Steve doesn't argue, and Tony grins privately. “And I do say so… Anyway, I don't care if her coat's not on brand. It's the fact she's not wearing one. It's what, barely twenty degrees out here? And she doesn't even have pantyhose on. And she might fancy herself a bad ass, but not even Pepper would walk in those heels on ice.”

“Maybe she just forgot her coat at work?” Steve suggests, but Tony can see the wheels turning in his head. “Either way… we should keep an eye out for her. She might have recognized us.”

With that, they're heading into the bar. Steve might do a horrendous job at stealth, but he blends effortlessly into the crowd at the bar. He is tall, blonde and blue-eyed, with nicely ruffled hair and if Tony is being honest, he is really selling the undersized plaid shirt and winter overcoat. Even the ugly scarf is giving him a cute edge, that is complemented nicely by his tight jeans. He looks like a guy who just got done working hard all day and is ready to have himself a good time with good company. Tony should take Steve to bars more often.

Tony's eyes eventually land on their target once he is pries himself away from checking Steve out. He spies an aging woman sitting alone at a table, nursing some kind of alcoholic drink and looking like she couldn't get much lower. It tugs at Tony's own former alcoholic heart at little. He hasn't lost a child before, but he can imagine how it might feel, especially if she was told it was suicide. That couldn't have been easy. Tony grabs Steve's shirt sleeve, distracting him from his own scan of the room. “Bet you my fortune, that's her,” he says, nodding his head in the woman's direction.

Steve turns and surreptitiously catches a glance. “I think you're right,” he says, voice and eyes softening with sympathetic grief. “Even if I didn't, there's no way I can match that bet,” he quips.

“Eh… You could give me a kiss and I would call it even.” Tony shrugs, smirking at the other man.

“My kiss worth a billion dollars to you?” Steve asks with a raised brow, obviously joking.

“Honey, I have more than just one billion dollars… And a kiss from you would be worth every cent,” Tony promises. Steve flushes a light pink and looks away bashfully.

“You offering to pay me?” he asks, not meeting Tony's eyes.

“Maybe I am. You willing?” Tony replies, just a little bit hopeful.

“You are offering me more than a billion dollars, Tony. Pretty sure anyone would kiss you for that,” Steve points out. He still hasn't met Tony's eyes, and Tony can't believe this is happening.

“How about for less?” Tony asks, fluttering his eyes at Steve in a completely joking-non-joking manner. “For how much less would you kiss me?”

Steve blinks at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded. “Uh…” he says dumbly. “What... what about Bucky?” His pink flush turns red as he goes from embarrassed to flustered.

Tony flicks Steve's nose. “Of course Bucky would kiss me for less than a billion dollars. What kind of man do you think he is?” It's a good non-sequitur, a joke and no kind of hint, not right now. They have work to do, and as much as Tony wants to suggest a three-way relationship to Steve, a bar in a podunk town in Tennessee doesn't seem like such a good idea. 

Steve wrinkles his nose at him, the red receding from his cheeks and nose just a little. “Uh… we should… we should get a move on,” he says.

“Alright. Let's go.”

Tony approaches the woman first, playing like he is hitting on her, offering to sit next to her and engaging in some banter. Steve hangs back by the bar and watches them and the surrounding area in a way that is clearly supposed to be unassuming, but is anything but. Most of the bar patrons are too focused on Steve's ass in those tight jeans than on where his eyes are wandering, so Tony inwardly shrugs it off.

To Tony's surprise, before he can get to any amount of schmoozing, the woman slides him a file. “This is what you want, right? Take it and go,” she says.

Steve knows there is something wrong as soon as the woman hands Tony a file. She was expecting them, or else expecting someone else, and that is not a good sign. Steve tenses, making his way towards Tony, weaving through the frustratingly full bar. If the woman pulls a fast one, Steve needs to be there.

It turns out it's not the woman they need to worry about. He sees the lady from outside the bar quickly approaching Tony from behind. Before Steve can even react, she has Tony slammed face first into the table. There are handcuffs in one of her hands, and she wrenches Tony's arms behind his back roughly. Steve starts forward, but is stopped by a man's hand on his arm.

“I'll handle it, son,” the man tells him in a warm southern drawl. Steve looks over at him and frowns. “You aren't going to be able to fix this by starting a bar fight. Let me take care of it.” Steve has his doubts, but reneges, allowing the other man to step forward.

“Hey!” the mans shouts in a firm voice as the bar starts to panic. “What's going on here?”

“It's an arrest,” the woman replies sweetly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Hell yeah, there's a problem. I won't have suits just coming in and arresting people in my town,” the man says firmly. Steve feels vaguely like he is in one of the 'spaghetti westerns' that Tony showed him. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

The woman knocks Tony backwards, off the table and onto his ass. Tony wiggles into a sitting position. The woman approaches the man, police man? Sheriff? And whips out a badge. “Homeland security,” she says primly. “Now can I get on with this?”

“No you cannot,” the sheriff tells her, stepping forward, attempting to tower over her. “What's the reason for this man's arrest?”

The woman makes a bored noise. “I was hoping to do this the easy way.” The hand holding the badge begins to glow and eerie orange along with the rest of her arm. “But we can do this the fun way too.”

At that point, several things happen at once. The woman lunges forward, red hot badge at the ready. Steve kicks the sheriff's feet out from under him, causing the woman to miss her target and drop the badge on the wooden floor. As soon as the badge touches the untreated flooring, it sets fire to it. Apparently not one to be distracted, the woman adjusts easily, other hand shooting forward and snatching the sheriff's hidden firearm, and leveling it at Steve's head.

“So glad you didn't drown, big boy. You're my favorite,” she says with a flirtatious lilt. “I almost feel bad about kidnapping yo--” She cuts off and falls to the floor hard. Steve can see Tony's feet peeking out from under the table. He must have taken a page from Steve's book and kicked her legs out.

Steve doesn't waste time. He dodges the woman and reaches for Tony, hauling him to his feet and setting him running towards the door. Before he can really follow though, Steve feels a hard kick to his rear with a heeled foot, sending him sprawling into some tables and falling against the dirty floor of the bar. A hand tangles in the hood of his coat and he is being lifted and then thrown through the window of the bar. When his vision clears, he sees Tony standing, stunned in front of the bar entrance and feels glass digging into his back, along with the rub of asphalt. The lady just chucked him through a window like he weighed nothing.

He sees the woman approach through the window and Steve waves Tony off. “Go! Run! I can handle this!”

“I'm only running 'cause you're not in cuffs!” Tony shouts as he turns and runs, just in time to avoid a few bullets aimed his way. Steve rolls up and pries a nearby manhole cover out of the ground, chucking it at the woman's hand as if it were his shield. The gun and the hand go flying down the road, the manhole cover smashing through a nearby shop window. The woman, on the other hand, doesn't seemed phased, only looking at the lost limb like its a minor inconvenience.

Steve is about to get up and pursue her, as she seems to have diverted all her attention to Tony, when someone whacks him upside the head with what feels like a stop sign. He turns and the perpetrator, a military looking man, waves at him and smirks.

“Aw… I heard that worked wonders on your friend!” he greets Steve, swaggering forward. “Though he did take a few more hits to the head beforehand, poor guy.”

“Who…?” Steve asks. This man didn't mean the child, did he? Steve catches another swing with a firm hand. It was a strong swing, but the material easily bends in Steve's grip.

“Your friend! The one Tony sent out from the mansion in that car...?” the man explains, as if he is reminding Steve of a shared coworker. “Muscular guy, one arm…? He was toting around a metal one, but it didn't do him much good.”

Steve can't help himself, he lunges forward, worry and fear shooting through him, colder than the negative degree temperatures. They attacked Bucky. The man swings at him again and Steve catches the sign and throws it to the side, charging the guy into a brick wall. He grabs handfuls of the man's shirt, slamming him back when he tries to push out of Steve's grasp.

“Where is he?!” Steve asks, crushing the man backwards into the wall. The other coughs and grins, eyes glowing that same ominous orange as the woman's.

“Just with our boss. He wanted to have a word with him… Pepper too,” the other man says. "You wouldn't happen to know where she is?" He knees Steve in the chest, sending him crashing backwards into the road. Nearby, he can hear glass shattering and the sounds of screams and fire.

Steve stumbles to his feet, putting up his fists. “Where did you take him?”

“I told you, to my boss!” the man explains. “You might be a good soldier, but you're not very bright, are you?”

Steve lunges forward and returns the man's knee with several of his own punches. Under his fists, the man's skin grows increasingly orange and hot, and begins to crack like a dry lake bed. “What are you?” Steve asks, even as his knuckles burn.

“Enhanced,” the man says simply. Steve yelps as the man's temperature suddenly sky rockets and burns his flesh from his knuckles up to his wrist, just from proximity. “You'd know a thing or two about that, wouldn't you?” Taking advantage of Steve's pain, he grabs him by Harley's scarf and the belt of his borrowed pants, lifting Steve above his head like he only weighed a hundred pounds again. He throws him and Steve crashes into the roof of a car, falling through the metal like it is made of wet tissue paper and onto the seat below. He lays, dazed, and hears the sound of a loud explosion.

“That's my cue,” the man says, suddenly standing over him. “Don't you go running off now.” He pulls back and punches Steve square in the chest, knocking him further into the car's plush interior and more than likely cracking his sternum. Before Steve can get his breath back from the blow, the man is heating the car around him, folding it over him like a blanket. Steve struggles and kicks, but the metal cools quickly and he is caged in. “Stay put.” The man makes an easy jog away.

Like hell, Steve is going to listen to him. He curls himself inside the car, fighting against his aching chest and folding his knees in, pressing his feet flat against the metal of the car's roof. To the sound of the chaos around him, he pushes with his feet, straining against the metal with all his might. He doesn't need much, just a little give, so he can slip out and that is exactly what he gets. The mess of metal and plastic above him bends upward just slightly, taking the pressure of Steve's arms, and he uses the newly freed appendages to pull himself out of the wreckage, just in time to watch the water tower fall and wreckage flood through the area.

Steve's keen hearing picks up on Tony's surprised gasp and exclamation, and he books it to where he heard it. Not only does he hear the noises Tony makes as he tries to struggle out of whatever predicament he is in, he can hear Harley's cries for help as well. When Steve comes upon the scene, he is anything but pleased. The glowing man has Harley in his lap, hands hovering menacingly about his face and throat. Tony's eyes meet his momentarily, before they snap back to the man, and Steve ducks behind an overturned trailer to avoid being seen.

“Mr. Stark, I'm so sorry!” Harley says as he kicks and struggles and Steve severely regrets getting him involved, even if the kid practically ran headlong into himself.

“Oh. No, no, no, no, no. I think he means, 'I want my goddamn file,'” the man demands, forcibly readjusting Harley on his knee.

Tony looks pale and worn, but there is something in his eyes that tells Steve he is planning something. “It's okay, kid,” Tony says, voice shaky. “R-remember what I told you about bullies?” he asks.

Steve wonders what he means. He wonder if, in the time he was unconscious due to the cold, he and Tony had come up with some kind of code system. Whatever it is, it works. The boy's eyes light up and he fishes a small device out of his pocket and throws his arm behind him. A bright light flashes the man in the face, and he lets go of Harley. Harley jumps down and runs towards Steve who directs him to hide behind the trailer, while he starts forward.

“That's the thing about smart guys,” Tony says. Steve plucks a piece of sheet metal from the ground and prepares to hurl it like his shield. “We always cover our asses.” With that said, he brandishes a make-shift repulsor and shoots the man in the chest. The man crashes into the rubble behind him, and doesn't move.

“Tony...” Steve sighs, dropping the metal and running towards him. “Are you okay?!”

Tony flails the repulsor off his hand, and it immediately smokes and melts through itself on the ground, giving off the smell of a leaking battery. Tony wrinkles his nose and looks up at Steve. “I'm stuck,” he says, motioning to his ankle where it is trapped under layers of metal and debris.

“I have you,” Steve says, lifting the pieces up gently and helping Tony to wiggle himself free. He kneels next to the man as he breaths and gets his bearings back, rubbing his ankle lightly. “Remind me to let you be the strategist the next mission we have.”

“Nope, I'm good if you keep that job,” Tony says quickly. “Are you okay? Not hurt?”

“I'll definitely be feeling this tomorrow, but for now, I'm fine,” Steve answers honestly. His hand ghosts over his own chest where the man punched him. “What about you?”

“Fine… fine… just… wet and cold… and I think my wrists are burnt,” Tony says. Steve gently takes Tony's hands and finds that indeed they are. Open blisters ring the areas where the cuffs had circled his wrists. “Your hand's burnt too.”

“I'm fine,” Steve insists, even as Tony takes his hand and turns it this way and that in inspection. "Nothing that won't heal."

“I'm fine too,” Harley cuts in, stepping out from behind the trailer.

Tony rolls his eyes at him. “Of course you're fine,” he says. “We wouldn't even be worrying right now, if you had just done what I told you in the first place,” he admonished. “What happened to you staying out of trouble?”

Harley rolls his own eyes, almost as intensely as Tony. “I saved your life,” he insists unapologetically. “You're welcome.”

“First of all, when you do someone a solid, don't act like a yutz about it,” Tony says, standing with Steve's help. “Second, I saved your life first, so we're even.” With Steve's help, he makes his way over to the man that Steve hopes is dead or unconscious. Tony rifles through his pockets for a few seconds and then steals his keys. “Now we got a ride, so let's go.”

Harley follows them to retrieve the discarded file. It's a surprisingly easy task, as the street is practically deserted after all the chaos. The police and rescue teams have yet to arrive. Still, Steve is pleased to see no one, but himself and Tony, were really injured during the fight. There has been a significant amount of property damage, but no civilians are hurt or dead. It is odd to be sitting in the car of someone whom they just killed, but Steve just has to settle himself with the thought that the man set out to kill them first and almost had. They won this car fair and square.

“Face it, you need me,” Steve hears Harley say, looking up at Tony as he opens the door to get in. “We're connected.” Tony rolls his eyes.

“You know what, what I need from you is to go home, be with your mom, keep your trap shut, guard the suit… and stay connected to the telephone because if I call, you better pick up,” Tony says. Steve notes that there is a softness to his voice despite his brisk words. Steve is rethinking Tony's competence with children, and then the man pauses. “You feel that…? We're done here,” he says. He gets in the car next to Steve and as he is doing so, says, “Get out of the way or I'm gonna run you over.”

“Tony!” Steve hisses as the door closes.

“He knows I'm joking,” Tony says. However, the kid doesn't move, looking at him flatly through the slightly tinted windows. Tony sighs and rolls down the window. “I'm sorry, kid. You did good.”

“So now you're just gonna leave me?” Harley asks. “Like my dad?”

Something guilty rears its head in Steve's gut. They couldn't just leave the kid on his own, but they couldn't bring him with them either. That was irresponsible at best and kidnapping at worst. Tony just pauses and blinks.

“Yeah,” Tony says. Another pause. “Wait, you're guilt tripping me right now.” Harley's face doesn't change, but Steve can still sense the change in the mood. Harley isn't worried about being lonely, he is just vindictive about being left behind.

Harley wraps his coat around his shoulders and makes a pouty face. “I'm cold,” he says in a small voice.

Tony mimics the face. “I can tell. You know how I can tell?” he asks, also speaking in a small, childish voice. “Because we're connected.” With that, he pulls out of the parking spot and rolls the window up, speeding down the street.

“What a kid,” Steve comments with a small smile.

Tony grins and looks down. “What a kid,” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	27. Another Lesson From the Mandarin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve learn the truth behind the Mandarin and people learn not to underestimate Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I keep needing to apologize for these large spaces between chapters! I had a volunteer thing I had to do that left me without internet for a week and the week beforehand had me very busy with preparations. Still, I hope you like this chapter. It's a bit of a recap if you've seen the Iron Man 3 movie, so I'll try to post the next chapter up more quickly.
> 
> Chapter title is from Iron Man 3
> 
> Warnings: violence, needles, descriptions of panic attacks and discussion of drugs in this chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for all your feedback and support! It's really appreciated (and very motivating ;))

Steve had been trying for the past two hours to tell Tony what he had learned from their flaming friend. That the Mandarin more than likely had Bucky. The only reason he hadn't said anything already was because they were already looking for the Mandarin's compound.

More than that, Tony is wound tight like a spring, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel, brows furrowed. The man's file has yielded information about AIM, an organization that is peddling super soldiers souped up with extremis. From the videos Tony had showed him, the serum helps to regrow limbs, grants super strength, and cures ailments, but is also incredibly, dangerously unstable. The soldiers they create are more like Bruce than Steve or Bucky, though instead of becoming Hulks, they become literal bombs, and their explosions are large and destructive. After this revelation, the worry in Steve's stomach only grows. These people who have created this extremis are willing to experiment on both volunteer and, in some videos, unwilling participants. If Bucky really is with them, he is far from safe and Steve has not felt this kind of helplessness since Phillips looked him in the eyes and told him that Bucky had been captured and was likely dead.

Steve twiddles his thumbs in his lap, his own worry consuming him, along with that new information. Bucky might be with the Mandarin right now, and Steve is keeping silent about it. He can't do that. Bucky isn't important to just him anymore, but to Tony too. Steve can see it clearly, how much Bucky means to Tony, in his carefully constructed prosthetic arm, to his almost tender and gentle behavior around Bucky. Just the way Tony looks at Bucky could tell anyone exactly how much he means to the man. Steve feels the familiar sting of jealousy, but has to tamp it down. He can't keep Bucky's possible situation a secret from Tony, no matter either of their feelings.

Tony has the music blaring, making an environment not conducive to making a confession, so Steve reaches forward and turns the music down. It takes Tony a worryingly long amount of time to react to the change, but Steve isn't in any hurry to tell him, so he just waits until Tony looks over at him in confusion.

Steve clears his throat nervously. “The man… we were fighting earlier-- last night...” Steve corrects the time after a belated look at the clock, it's early in the morning, rather than late at night now. “He… he said something to me...”

Tony's brow furrows. “Like what? He tell you about the Mandarin's next plot? Something about the Ten Rings? AIM?” The amount of players in this is truly ridiculous.

“No… no...” Steve is quick to correct. “I mean… maybe. He… Well he said that the Mandarin has Bucky.”

Out of all the reactions Steve was expecting, Tony suddenly stamping on the brakes and pulling over is not one of them. Steve has to brace himself against the glove compartment as he jerks forward, and nearly topples onto Tony as they swerve violently to the right. Before Steve can apologize for not saying anything earlier, Tony has completely stopped the car, thrown open the door and collapsed on the shoulder of the highway, heaving. Steve wastes no time hurrying to his side, kneeling on the asphalt with him less than a few seconds later.

“I'm sorry,” Steve says quietly, rubbing Tony's back. “I'm sorry! I know I should have said something earlier, but I just...” he chews his lip, guilt churning his gut. “I didn't think about how it affected you too… I was just thinking about Bucky.”

“I sent him away,” Tony whispers, then louder, “I sent him away!” He breathes heavily, head against the door for the car, gripping the door handle tightly. “I sent him away and they still caught him!” He pinches his own nose hard, nails digging crescents into the skin. Steve quickly grabs his hand to prevent him from breaking the skin.

“It's not your fault,” Steve repeats. “Please, Tony, don't blame yourself.”

“How can you be so calm?! I know what he means to you and now he's in the hands of that maniac and it's all my fault!” Tony takes a deep breath that doesn't seem to yield any oxygen, and begins to to hyperventilate. Steve stubbornly bottles his fear and worry. “I can't protect him! I can't even keep him sa--”

Steve cuts Tony off by clasping both sides of his face and turning him to face him, establishing eye contact. Neither of them look very strong or reassuring right now, Steve knows he is still pale, and his hands still tremble minutely at the memory of the cold, but Tony is much worse, he deathly pale, his lip is split, and bruises are forming on his face, dark and painful looking.

“Tony. Tony look at me,” Steve says softly. Tony does, staring at him with something close to wonder. “I'm not calm,” Steve says firmly. “I'm… Jesus, Tony, I'm scared shitless for him. But… But I know you… and I know him… And I know you two can take care of yourselves… and each other,” he says quietly. “I know you love him and you wouldn't ever have let this happen to him if you could help it. I know you did everything you could. I know you'll save him.”

“I'm a fuck up,” Tony says. Just as quiet and just as firm. “You really think I'll save him? I'm lucky to even… to even have him. I'm lucky he hasn't up and left me.”

Steve scoots closer to Tony, moving his hands from Tony's face to his shoulders, clasping them warmly and resisting the puzzling urge to push the man to his chest, to use his body to protect and shield him. Of all the words Steve would use to describe Tony, 'fuck up,' Steve thinks, isn't one of them. “Tony… you are the farthest thing from a fuck up I've ever seen,” he says with conviction. “You're… you're excitable, and ambitious… impulsive, and if I'm going to be honest… just a little bit irritating.” At Tony's almost flat look, Steve amends. “Okay, maybe a lot irritating… But you're also loyal and charming… so… so gentle when you need to be… and tactful when it suits you.”

Steve knows his voice is shaky, and he has no idea where he is going with this barrage of compliments. He only knows that Tony needs someone other than Bucky telling him how good he is right now, and who is better for the job than Steve, Captain America. Though Steve hopes Tony is more concerned with Steve Rogers' opinions of him, than the icon that is Captain America. He hopes wherever this goes, it helps. “You're… you're so handsome,” he says, face heating a bit, and he tries to hide it with a small smile. Tony probably isn't insecure about his looks, but the comment just slipped out. “I think Bucky is lucky to have you…. Anyone… Anyone would be lucky to have you, but… especially Buck… especially me,” Steve finishes, looking down. “What I'm saying is… you're not a 'fuck up.' I'm glad it was you who found us… who _saved_ us. And I know you'll do it again.”

Tony stares at Steve, eyes wide, for a long while. They sit, stock still as the crickets chirp in the background and wind moves through the trees. Tony licks his lips and Steve finds his eyes drawn to the action. “Steve... I...” he says softly, but then his cell phone rings and they jolt apart, like they'll get in trouble if they are seen in such close proximity. Tony goes for the cellphone, cursing the whole way.

“This better be good news, Harley,” Tony says firmly, somewhat annoyed.

“It is, Sir,” Jarvis's phone filtered voice sounds before Harley can speak. “The repairs have gone well, though I seem to do perfectly for a stretch, then at the end of the sentence, I say the wrong cranberry.”

The face Tony makes, half exasperation, half confusion, has Steve repressing a chuckle despite the situation. “Alright, whatever. You got a definite location on the Mandarin yet?” he asks, patience visibly and audibly wearing thin. They know the Mandarin is likely out of country, but not a location. They were just hoping to get to an airport quickly enough once they found out where.

“Yes. And you were right, Sir. Once I factored in AIM downlink facilities, I was able to pinpoint the Mandarin's broadcast signal,” Jarvis reports, sounding proud. "He appears to be in Miami."

Tony pauses, and so does Steve, both confused by the words. “Alright, Harley, I'm going to need to walk you through rebooting Jarvis's speech drive, but not right now. What does it say on the screen?”

“He's right,” Harley says. “It says Miami, Florida.”

“What?” Tony says, stunned. That means they were completely wrong, though they are headed in the correct direction, somewhat. “Alright,” Tony says, recovering quickly. “First things first, I need the armor, how's it coming?”

There is a pause. “Uh… It's not charging,” Harley says.

Tony makes a strained noise and his grip on the phone tightens exponentially. Steve is about to brace him, when Jarvis speaks.

“Actually, Sir, it is charging. But the power source is questionable, it may not succeed in revitalizing the Mark 42,” Jarvis explains, calm and almost reassuring. His hints of personality aren't gone, but they are definitely toned down for Tony's benefit.

“What's questionable about electricity?!” Tony almost shouts. He starts breathing in short gasps and stuttering through his words. “It's my suit and I… and I can't-- I'm not gonna...” Steve hand immediately comes up to his face again.

“Look at me, Tony. It's going to be okay,” Steve says firmly.

“Is he having another attack?” Harley asks from the phone. “I didn't even mention New York!”

“Right, and now you just said it, by name, while denying having said it,” Tony points out, speaking between gasps for air, voice becoming increasingly thready. He fights his way out of Steve's grip, walks a few shaky feet away and collapses again. “Oh god...” His hands are reaching like he wants something to hold at the same time as his knees come up to close him in. Steve comes forward again, and offers his own hand, kneeling next to Tony. Tony immediately latches on and his grip is strong, nails digging into his skin, but Steve doesn't mind.

“Just breathe, Tony,” Steve says gently, though he can't hide the veiled panic in his own voice. Tony is literally falling apart in front of him and Steve is woefully unequipped to deal with it. “With me, okay? In and out, nice and slow.” He sends a silent thanks to Sam in that moment, and resolves to send a not so silent one once this whole mess is over.

He manages to lead Tony through a few reps of the controlled breathing, though Tony's grip doesn't loosen on his hand and his eyes are still wide and panicked. “You're a mechanic, right?” Harley suddenly asks, once it becomes clear that Tony won't be calmed just with breathing exercises, though he is clearly trying. He clings desperately to Steve and follows his instructions as best he can.

“Right,” Tony manages to bite out, still clutching Steve like a lifeline, but his panting takes on a less desperate edge.

“You said so,” Harley states.

“Yes I did,” Tony agrees. Steve has no idea where this is going, but Tony is beginning to calm, so he makes no move to stop it.

“Why don't you just… build something?” Harley asks. And who knew such a simple phrase could calm such a turbulent storm?

“Okay,” Tony says softly, grip loosening on Steve. “Thanks, kid.”

After the phone is hung up, and Tony is back in the car, he turns to Steve. “Thank you,” he says, firm and earnest.

“I didn't do anything,” Steve says, avoiding Tony's gaze.

“I think you did,” Tony says, not looking away from him. “I think you have… You've… you've kept me together… I'm… I'm losing it, Steve. My head's going to hell in a handbasket and you're holding me together, so thank you.” He finally looks away at that, suddenly bashful. “Let's go save our man.”

There is something about the way Tony says 'our man,' that makes Steve warm in a pleasant way. It feels good, solid. It feels right.

It takes them a while to make it to Miami, but once there, Tony goes on a shopping spree. They each get hoodies, hats and sunglasses, and Steve thinks that Tony has a little too much fun dressing him. It's also the first time Tony has smiled since his panic attack, though, so Steve let's it go and tries on a third pair of pants that, quote, “Don't give him away by his ass.” Tony also 'causally' spends a grand some at a DYI store, though both of them invariably look suspicious. Tony also is visibly antsy, hands shaking and eyes flicking this way and that in a show of impressive hyper-vigilance. Steve is thankful no one will be able to get the drop on them, but also worried for Tony's well being, so he does his best to help the man during their shopping. He stands in Tony's blind spots and keeps watch when and where Tony can't. Nothing is said, but it is clear Tony is thankful with the way his shoulders relax.

Just as Harley suggests, Tony builds. He bought seemingly harmless materials when they were in the DIY store, but Steve marvels as he watches Tony transform them into powerful weapons. Not for the first time, Steve sees why Bucky talks Tony up so much, why he has so much confidence in the man. Tony could literally tear the world apart if he wanted to, and rather than finding it dangerous, like he would before, Steve finds it reassuring. Tony is a good man at heart, Steve knows this with certainty.

Tony manages to construct something akin to Steve's shield. It isn't indestructible, but it will definitely block a good number of bullets, or a hard punch from someone about the same strength as Steve. Steve can also chuck it with similar precision to the his normal one. Having it on his arm feels more comfortable than he expected it would. Another dose of familiarity to help him cope with the fact their whole world is literally crumbling under their feet again.

With that done, they sit down and devise a plan of attack, a difficult feat, considering that they have no intel on the compound. Tony manages to dig up some old blueprints and they use that as a way to devise where the front door is and where the guards would be clustered most. By the time the sun peeks over the horizon, they have a game plan. Steve urges Tony to get a few hours of sleep, and they set off.

Bucky wakes up strapped to a table feeling sluggish and sick. There is pain in all of his extremities, but the worst is in his head where it pounds along with his rapid heartbeat. His first thought is that the last year has all been a dream and he has just woken up from it. There is no Tony and Steve never rescued him. Instead, he is still strapped to Zola's table, enduring experiments and doomed to get lost in elaborate hallucinations until he inevitably dies. He wants to panic, to cry, to get angry and curse Zola every way he knows how.

However, when he opens his eyes, it is not the inside of a Nazi base that he sees, but a high stone ceiling. There are machines that beep around him, some of which are connected to him, and the room is bright with natural light, streaming in from thin windows set high in the wall. Bucky was not dreaming. He is not with Zola, though he does not know if this place is much better.

“Ah! There you are!” a brisk male voice says. Fast footsteps approach his table and the owner of the voice leans over him. “James Buchanan Barnes. What a surprise!” He is a tall man, straight white teeth bared in an ominous smile. His hair is slicked back and a dirty blond, and he has a decent tan. “Out of all the people Tony Stark knew, I was not expecting you to be in that car.”

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky slurs, frowning. He struggles with the restraints and he thinks they might give if he is given enough time to work at them. There are just a few leather straps holding him down, one over his chest, another over his thighs and three securing his wrist and both his feet. Bucky is not nearly as strong as Steve, and is yet again down one arm, but the serum has been doing something for him. He makes a show of struggling and then relaxes back, looking defeated.

“Don't get up on my account,” the man replies. “And pardon me. I'm Aldrich Killian.”

“You're that rat bastard who was flirting with Pepper,” Bucky fills in, remembering the call.

Killian's eyes widen. “Were you spying on me, Mr. Barnes?” he asks, but he looks the opposite of appalled, only surprised. “You're awfully knowledgeable for someone who's supposed to be in a coma.”

Bucky just frowns at him. Killian goes on speaking. “I'm glad you're more awake than you should be. It makes you great leverage,” he says casually, sitting on the edge of the table that Bucky is strapped to. “Ordinarily, I'd inject you with extremis, but our lovely genius has discovered you have something a little special in your blood,” he continues to explain, looking off to someone who can't see.

“Ya don't say,” Bucky grits out. This isn't good. Alrich Killian knows he is awake, and that he isn't exactly normal. “You're the Mandarin, then. Gotta say, I'm a little disappointed,” he continues, shooting the man a smirk. He needs to change the subject, keep him from asking what that 'something special' is, if he doesn't know already.

“I'm the man behind the Mandarin,” Killian corrects proudly.

Bucky tries not to grimace. “Impressive,” he comments, keeping his voice level. “And you're what, doing all this to get revenge on Tony?” Bucky asks. “'Cause this seems a little overboard. You could have just sent him an angry letter. No need to get the whole country involved.”

“Oh, you're so old fashioned,” Killian says with false fondness. “No, Tony's just a bonus. What I'm really interested in is the country at large. The big picture.”

“What? You're planning on taking it over? Destroying it?” Bucky snorts. “You're the old fashioned one.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “Old fashioned _and_ simple. Mr. Barnes, you are a charming one. But you're asking all the wrong questions,” he says. “The money's not in ruling the country. At least not the easy money. No, all the money is in war, right now… Don't look at me like that, Mr. Barnes. You know, some people believe that World War II is what pulled America out of the depression. It united it, and made it strong again. I'd say America needs that again, wouldn't you?"

"All those people musta' not lived through World War II, then. You and them are idiots," Bucky spits.

“All you're gonna be is a war mongerer,” Bucky sneers, wrinkling his nose at the man. "You don't have an interest in what's good for America."

“It's really not any different from what Tony did.” Killian shurgs. “The only difference between me and him, is I'll hold the monopoly. I'll control the supply and create the demand.”

“The difference between you and Tony is that Tony thought he was helping,” Bucky spits. “And Tony's not a dumbass!” He makes a show of straining against his bonds, making the bed jerk as he pushes against the straps, arching his back at the most severe angle he can manage. 

A very hot hand settles against his brow, and Bucky stills, feeling his eyebrows singe as Killian's skin glows orange. “Shhh…. I don't want to hurt you… at least not while Tony isn't here to watch.” Bucky just glares up at him, breaking out into a sweat.

“I am helping this country. Imagine how good a war we can actually control will be. New jobs, combat driven innovation… It'll be another economic boom and I'll be at the helm, providing jobs, weapons and super soldiers. And that's where you come in. You'll be instrumental in the development of my new serum, as well as a little present to myself,” Killian informs him. “That serum in your veins might just be what I'm looking for, so… try to stay still for Ms. Hansen, hm? And she'll try not to make it hurt too much... at least not until I tell her to.” He pats Bucky on the head patronizingly. “Be a good little test subject.”

With that, he walks off. Bucky glares after him and digests that information. This is exactly what he, Steve and Tony were trying to avoid. Now Killian not only knows several big secrets, but he plans to use Bucky to perfect whatever this extremis thing is. If it enables to create more smart ass, glowing people, Bucky has to stop it on principle.

A shadow crossing over him pulls him out of his thoughts. “So you're the reason Stark didn't want me in the coat closet. You're the big secret,” Maya Hansen says, arms crossed. In one hand she holds an empty syringe. Bucky wonders if he could take her.

“Fuck you,” Bucky yells at her and wreaths against the restraints, he can hear one of the chains groan in protest to the force. “Did you lead them there?! Did you tell him about me?! Tony saved your goddamn life, you ungrateful piece of--”

“I didn't lead them anywhere,” Maya protests loudly over Bucky's cursing. “And I didn't tell them about you. I came to warn Tony,” she continues quietly. “I… I knew what Killian was planning. I tried to help. I really did.”

Bucky continues to squirm and glare at her. He is relatively sure he can take her, unless she is hiding extremis like Killian. She doesn't exhibit that same careful balance of brain and brawn like Killian does, and she's pale and visibly exhausted, pointing to her not having it. Killian looks like the perfect picture of help and sp did the other two that attacked him, aside from some prominent scarring.

While he is assessing her, Maya moves in and lowers a syringe near his right arm. He flinches harshly. “What is that?”

She backs off and sighs. “It's an empty syringe. I'm trying to take more blood for analysis. Don't make a scene,” she tells him.

“Why should I let you?” he challenges, leaning away from the syringe.

“Because if you let me, I can come up with some reason why Killian shouldn't shoot you up with extremis,” she says, resting her hand on her hip. “Extremis is already extremely unstable. He wants to know what happens when you add Erskine's serum into the mix.”

“It's not Erskine's. It's Zola's,” Bucky corrects, unwilling to have Erskine, a man that Steve looked up to and talks very highly of, associated with the mess that is Bucky. “What the hell is extremis anyway? You planning on making lava people?”

“I guess it's my answer to the serum. It was supposed to help people with traumatic injury… later, maybe everyone, no matter what. No one would die from an injury again. There would be no more cancer, or disease. Mankind's greatest threat would be time,” Maya says. “Killian saw it as the next step in human evolution. It… Instead of the Hulk, or Captain America, you get these… people like Killian. They regenerate quickly, and can heat up to extreme temperatures. They also explode sometimes… If their genetics aren't compatible, or they don't keep careful control of themselves.”

“Explode?!” Bucky asks, both disbelieving and somehow experiencing an epiphany. Tony had said there was something odd about the explosions. He thought Red Skull had a tough gig, but the exploding thing, especially to that magnitude, really takes the cake.

“That's why I'm telling Killian not to inject you yet,” Maya explains. “The serum could be the stabilizing agent we're looking for. Or it could be a catalyst for a melt down. It's not just a risk for you, it's a risk for this whole compound. Possibly the whole state... country, even.”

Bucky stares at her. “Fine,” he allows stiffly. Though it isn't only because he knows she won't inject him with anything strange yet, she just let on that he is at least somewhere that has states, with the familiar way she said it, more than likely the United States. If he escapes, he isn't in the middle of an unknown country. She slips the needle expertly into the vein in the crook of his arm, filling the little chamber with dark red.

Maya sighs and caps the syringe once she is finished and looks at the small chamber. “Now behave… please,” she says, moving away from him. Bucky continues to glare at her until she disappears from his line of sight. It is very quiet after that. He can hear the rhythmic, heavy steps outside, muffled, perhaps by a door. Maya fills the silence with the clacking of her keyboard, and the whirring of various machines at different intervals.

“So, what happens to me when you figure out the serum?” Bucky asks after what feels like an hour, but was probably only about twenty minutes. Maya makes an annoyed sound and Bucky rolls his eyes. It isn't as if Bucky chose to get himself strapped down to a table, though he could do a thing or two about getting up.

“To extremis? A lot. If it reacts well, we'll have our stabilizing agent. If not, we know what doesn't work and might be able to isolate what does,” she explains, still tapping away at her keyboard. For someone who is annoyed by Bucky's presence, she sure has a lot to say to him. “To you? Hopefully, nothing too bad. If it stabilizes, Killian will want to inject you with it to see what the end result is. If not… Well… He'll keep you around to study the super soldier formula, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Bucky parrots. “I don't like my odds.” He pulls on one restraint and feels the buckle strain , the metal bending near silently. Bucky talks over it regardless. “Either way, I'm a lab rat. I've had enough of being a lab rat in my life.” The strap around his wrist tightens and then loosens as the buckles breaks quietly. Maya doesn't seem to notice, and Bucky frees his hand from the strap silently. The rest of the restraints are easy work while Maya speaks.

“What are you going to do about it? You can't escape, Barnes. Neither of us can,” she says. Her voice is patronizingly soft. Bucky is sure she isn't happy about having him prisoner, but she isn't going to do anything about it either.

“This,” Bucky says simply, and then he launches himself off the table. Maya isn't far from him, sat in an office chair up a few steps from where he was strapped down, her back to him. He lassos one restraint strap around her neck, the loop slipping easily over her head. He stuffs his flesh arm into her mouth, fist still tightly wrapped around the strap, when she tries to scream. “Scream, and I will strangle you before anyone can stop me and use you as a human shield. You think they care enough about you not to shoot?” he hisses dangerously in her ear. He has never been okay with threatening women, call him old fashioned, and he knows Maya is not the one at fault. However, he can't afford to be easy-handed with her. He has to at least sound like he means business. “I've met people like this… fought them. I guarantee Killian thinks you're replaceable. The only one not replaceable is the one in charge.

“Now I don't want to hurt you… And I'm pretty sure you weren't too keen on hurting me, so here's the deal. You keep quiet, tell me where my metal arm is, and I'll get out of your hair,” he bargains.

“Killian will kill me,” Maya spits back once Bucky has released her mouth. “I can't just let you go.”

“Fine,” Bucky says. “Then play the victim. Tell me where my arm it, I'll knock you out and make a run for it. Both ways, I escape. One of them, you make a ruckus and you're probably dead and the other, I get away and you're alive. Killian is the one at fault here, since he used such shit restraints.”

She makes noise about refusing, but gives in once Bucky tightens the restraint loop around her neck. She gives him instructions to Killian's 'collection,' where he is keeping the arm. “It's where he stores most of his trophies,” she says with disgust. Bucky feels bad when he has to knock her out.

A quick search of the room yields a handgun with regular ammo in the desk and a loop of keys. Bucky loads the handgun one handed and stuffs the keys in his pocket, quickly and quietly sneaking out of the room after a set of guards walk by. His destination is on the other side of the compound, but Bucky was a sniper, he is a master at stealth. He can get there.

A few hours later, Bucky never thought all his training would amount to being the world's best at hiding in closets. Though he guesses, throughout his life, he has had a lot of experience at it, hiding in both metaphorical and physical closets. Maybe he should list that under his 'special skills' on his resume. He doesn't have a lot of those anymore.

In addition to being trapped in a closet for the time being, Bucky is completely, hopelessly lost with no idea if he is closer to or farther from the trophy room. The guards don't seem to have discovered him missing yet, but they are in a tizzy about something they're calling Iron Patriot, though at one point they do mention War Machine as well. He wonders if Rhodey has managed to infiltrate the compound, if Tony is with him, and how he will find them along with his arm.

It appears not, as nothing explosive has happened, but they have doubled their shifts, and all Bucky can do now is wait for a lull and hope the janitor doesn't do their job until after dark. The thing about waiting in closets, is that it is very boring after their initial adrenaline rush from having to quickly hide wears off and Bucky is tired. He is skilled enough to not completely give in to sleep, but he does find himself jerking out of moments where his eyes are drooping. Bucky is a sniper, his game is waiting and watching, but when all you're watching is the back of a closet door, and you are waiting for guards to get lazy, it gets old very fast.

Eventually, after countless sets of footsteps stomping past the door, there is a lull and Bucky feels confident enough to sneak back out. He is forced to go in the opposite direction of the guards and eventually ends up in another small office as a gaggle of people walk by. For someone with so much security, they are awfully lax. Bucky could probably walk around in broad daylight and be asked if he wanted coffee if he were bolder. As it is, Bucky doesn't want to risk getting shot or strapped down again.

Bucky's next chance to move comes in the form of all the guards rushing in opposite directions. He takes advantage of the chaos to dash towards the room where he thinks they might be storing his arm. As soon as he makes it around the corner, he hears the door to the room he was in get kicked in and someone shout.

“Room's clear! Keep looking!” And then there are footsteps running towards his corner. At a loss, Bucky kicks open the grating to one of the ducts set in the floor and scuttles inside like a crab, pulling the grating after himself. It's a tight fit, but hopefully no one will come looking for a super soldier in the ventilation. His hunch holds true as the group stampedes past him, kicking open doors over exuberantly for people looking for an escaped prisoner.

Not long after the guards pass, comes another set of calmer footsteps. “What are they doing in here?!” a familiar voice asks. “I thought I told them to comb the parameter for Barns!” Killian sounds annoyed, voice strained.

“Sir, Barnes is still in the compound. He hasn't escaped,” another man says. “Someone spotted him on the security footage outside the Mandarin's rooms.” Bucky can hear the sound of wheels rolling along the wood flooring and soon enough he sees them. From what he can see, some kind of case is strapped to the cart, covered by a black tarp. The man behind Killian is pushing it.

“Oh, good! I was getting worried that we'd lost him,” Killian says, though he doesn't sound particularly worried. “Let that group handle him. How hard can it be? He's only got one arm.” They continue walking down the hall as Bucky silently fumes. “I want the majority of you to focus on the plan, you understand? Get our precious _package...”_ He taps the cart. “… delivered to the party and beef up the security around our patriot when he arrives. I'm sure that group alone can handle Barnes. Keep him from escaping, guard the doors, you know the drill. We'll flush him out eventually.”

“Yes, sir,” the other complies, pushing the cart past Killian and continuing down the hall. Killian pauses for a second, feet dangerously close to Bucky's hiding spot. Bucky holds his breath, tensing, reading to charge him if need be. After a few prolonged seconds, Killian merely walks in the opposite direction the cart disappeared, only to be stopped again by another person approaching him.

“Sir!” a male voice says, running after him. “We've got the Iron Patriot here and strung up, but the suit won't open,” another man that Bucky assumes is a guard reports.

“Great! Best news I've heard all day!” Killian says. “Let's see what we're dealing with.” Bucky can hear him clap and rub his hands together as he and the guard make their way away from him, presumably in the direction of the suit. He waits for their feet to disappear around the corner, before he slides out of his hiding place and pursues them.

Tony and Steve's infiltration had started out magnificently, if Tony was being honest. Both he and Steve worked together seamlessly, entering the compound and systematically taking out guards one after another, silent like shadows. Natasha would be proud if she weren't also probably on the enemy's team.

Though what they eventually find makes their progress seem pointless. The Mandarin is underwhelming, to put it generously. He is obviously drunk and probably drugged out, and he actually squeaks when Steve throws his makeshift shield at him. He is quick to throw his hands up when Tony points his pilfered gun at him.

“Bloody hell, bloody hell,” he says, backing away from Tony.

“Don't move,” Tony warns him, and they both advance, Steve taking a protective stance in front of the women in the man's bed. Tony wonders if he should tell Steve that maybe he shouldn't turn his back to them, but the women don't look trained or dangerous like Natasha does. Their bodies toned more to look slim than to be powerful.

“I'm not moving,” the man says, continuing to back up. “You wanna take something… go ahead. Though the guns are all fake because none of those wankers would trust me with the real ones.” Tony is absolutely stunned, struck surprisingly speechless. “Hey… do you fancy either of the birds?”

Tony looks back to see the women exchanging insulted looks before looking up to Steve pleadingly. “Alright, I've heard enough.” Tony nods at Steve. “Get them out of here.”

“Alright, ladies. I'm sorry about this. Bathroom… now.” Steve herds them into the bathroom. “It's for your safety,” he tells them even as they make disgusted noises. Tony doesn't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

“Alright. You're not him. The Mandarin,” Tony says quickly, more to Steve than the man. He cocks his gun and jabs it at the man. “Where?!” he shouts. The man begins to panic as Steve comes back to their standoff. Steve allows Tony to have his moment, surprisingly. He doesn't stop Tony from shouting and waving his gun around. Hopefully Steve trusts him enough not to shoot. “Where's the Mandarin?”

The guy spends a few seconds trying to dodge out of Tony's sights, going for the door before coming face to chest with Steve, backing up, and then collapsing into a chair, all the while trying to talk Tony down. “He's here,” the man says, gesturing to himself. “He's here… but he's not here. He's here, but he's not here.”

“What do you mean?” Tony demands, walking after him with the gun.

“It's complicated,” the man says. Steve advances on him, and his eyes widen in fear. “Hey! Hey! It's complicated!” he insists, giving Steve a stern look. “Alright? It's complicated!”

“Uncomplicate it,” Tony says firmly, feeling Steve press behind him. “Don't move.” Tony turns to look at Steve.

“This might be a trap,” Steve whispers close to his ear. “He doesn't… there's no way he can be the Mandarin.” Steve pauses and frowns as the man tries to crawl away, readying his shield, but Tony is quicker, firing the gun at the floor near the man's head. The man's scream is pathetic, to say the least, and he obediently crawls back to his spot.

“Look, my name's Trevor. Trevor Slattery,” the man says, once he sits down.

“What are you?” Tony asks, since the name isn't ringing any bells. “You're… you're a decoy… a double, right?”

“I'm not an understudy, no...” Trevor says, sounding insulted. Both Tony and Steve stomp forward, Steve with his shield ready to strike. “Don't hurt the face! I'm an _actor!”_

Tony pauses. “You have a minute to explain or I sick my angry friend on you, fill it with words,” he says, nodding to Steve.

“It's just a role...” Trevor says. At Tony's confused look, he continues. “You know, the Mandarin. It's not real!” he explains, as if both Tony and Steve are children meeting an actor for the first time.

“Is he serious, Tony?” Steve asks, crouched over the Mandarin, now revealed to be a self-proclaimed actor named Trevor. “This is… this is the Mandarin.”

“Now… I know I'm a little shorter in person… everybody says that...” Trevor rambles, and Steve presses his shield down, eyes hard and angry

“How did you… get this role, Trevor?” Steve asks, voice still hard, as he looms over the smaller man.

The man deliberates for a few moments, obviously more intimidated by Steve, big and bulky with his shield, than Tony with his gun. Tony shoots the wall next to his head, ripping a hole in the satin curtain. “You'd better start talking, buddy. Rumors say that the Mandarin has an important person to my friend over here, and if the Mandarin isn't real, it's you he's going to beat the shit out of.” Steve almost puffs up at the words, face still stormy and cold.

“Okay! Okay!” Trevor says, flinging his hands in the air. “Well… I had a problem… with um… substances and I ended up doing things… well, there's no two ways about it, I ended up doing things in the street that a man shouldn't do,” he explains, all the while Steve grows more tense and impatient at Tony's side.

“Next!” Tony barks, jerking his gun to gain the man's attention.

“And then… then they approached me about the role!” Trevor says, sounding amazed. “And they said… they knew about the drugs.”

“Were they going to help you get off them?” Steve asks, something like sympathy underlining his hard tone. Tony can relate, if Trevor took the job to help himself be a better person, then he has been just as used and tricked as the rest of them.

“They said they'd get me more!” Trevor exclaimed. Steve's face goes hard again, angry. “They gave me things… they gave me this palace! They gave me plastic surgery! They gave me things!”

Trevor trails off and falls asleep mid-sentence, snoring lightly. Both Steve and Tony blink at him silently before Steve looks to Tony and raises his eyebrows in silent question. Tony obliges and kicks the man in the shin.

Trevor rouses immediately and continues the conversation like nothing happened. “Oh! And a lovely speedboat!” he says, like he forgot an important detail. “And… the thing was, he needed someone to take credit for some… accidental explosions.” He mimics an explosive noise and spreads his fingers out, miming the cloud of fire that would hypothetically spread. He then looks at them like that has explained it all.

“Who's _he_?!” Steve demands, stepping forward, quickly losing his patience. Trevor presses himself against the chair, eyes wide for a split second before his mind moves past his fear of Steve onto something else. He doesn't answer immediately.

Tony's mind answers for him. “He...” Tony ducks his head and resists the urge to pinch his nose. Of course, the explosions, they weren't on purpose. Who would need someone to take credit for them to draw attention away from his projects. “Killian?” he asks, though he knows the answer already.

“Killian,” Trevor mimics.

“Custom made terror threat,” Tony says. He would be frustrated about not being able to see it before, but he is more glad that everything is so much clearer.

“Yes!” Trevor tells him exuberantly. Steve tenses as he stands up and energetically makes his way around the room, but Tony only has to put a hand on his shoulder to get him to calm down. “His think tank thinked it up!” Steve gives Tony a concerned look while the man rambles. Tony is upset, anxious, angry and a whole mixture of other unpleasant emotions, and he has to remain stubbornly silent to keep it in.

“...Ready for… another lesson….” Steve's eyes snap to Trevor when he starts talking like Mandarin, like their imaginary threat had suddenly materialized into the room and was real. The sinister tone is quickly, almost comically replaced by Trevor's bumbling voice. “Blah blah blah, yeah?” He offers them both cans of beer like they are now old friends. Steve frowns and Tony motions in the negative.

The man takes it in stride, setting one down and taking the other for himself. “'Course it was my performance that brought the Mandarin to life,” Trevor says, sounding congratulatory of himself.

Tony stiffens. “The performance?” he asks. “Where people died?” He feels Steve's hand come up and brace his shoulder.

The man hums in confusion, before understanding what Tony is saying. “Just… look around you! Green screen! Costumes!” He pauses, gesturing around them. “Honestly, I was on vacation for half the stuff… when I wasn't… movie magic!” He wiggles his fingers that aren't holding the beer.

Losing patience, Tony stands and stalks towards Trevor and Steve lets him, actually braces a hand on his lower back as he stands, almost like he is pushing Tony forward. “I'm sorry, but I've got a friend who's in a coma right now and might never wake up. I've got a boyfriend that your boss kidnapped and I don't know what he has done to him. You're going to answer for both of them,” he says harshly. He revels silently in the look of surprise on Trevor's face when he realizes he isn't blameless anymore. “You're still going down, pal.”

“Tony!” Steve shouts before he groans and there is the sound of something hitting the floor. Tony turns to come face to face with the man who they killed just last night.

He looks absolutely fine, if not a little angry, holding a little injector with a long bloody needle, it's contents are empty. Behind him, Steve is collapsed on the floor, still moving weakly, crawling towards Tony. Silent with shock, Tony swings his gun up, but the man is faster, knocking Tony hard in the face. As soon as the hit connects, Tony's vision goes black, and his consciousness flees directly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	28. Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evil guy monologues, there's a brawl, and Bucky proves he would make a kick ass secret agent, if there was ever any real doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I actually managed to update within a week this time! New stuff in this chapter, also a lot of artistic license taken with the actual plot of Iron Man 3. The way time flows in that movie is so weird, I've noticed, so I kinda just played loosely with the timeline and dialogue. That's probably how it's going to be for the rest of the chapters for this arc.
> 
> Chapter title is from Iron Man 3
> 
> Warnings: more blood, more violence, and Tony talks a little bit about alcohol. Please let me know if there's anything else. I covered a lot in this chapter and I'm not sure what's a basic expectation for this kind of fic and what might take people off guard.
> 
> I hope this chapter is a little more exciting than the last one and that you enjoy it! Thank you all so much for your kudos, comments and bookmarks. I'm really glad you're all enjoying reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it!

Bucky slowly, silently tails Killian to where they are holding the Iron Patriot. Killian must be very confident in his ability to protect himself, because he makes the whole journey across the compound with only one guard. If Bucky didn't already know that the sound would attract everyone in the compound due to the cavernous echoing walls, he would have shot the man in the back several times by now. As it stands, he settles for the convenient escort.

Killian practically prances down a spiral staircase of all things, leading down into a basement area. Bucky can't immediately follow after him, but as soon as their footsteps start echoing in the pattern that indicates they've hit solid ground, Bucky quietly creeps down the stairs after them.

The rooms they pass by range from mundane to terrifying. Some places look eerily like Zola's labs with harsh lighting, cabinets stocked to the brim with drugs of unknown origin and effect and tables sat in the middle with leather straps. Others look like they're meant for torture, full of chains and knives and even power tools in some places, another room just consists of a computer sat on a desk with a chair, decorated generously with fake potted plants. Then they pass by a room furnished like the one the Mandarin uses for his broadcasts. It is empty now, though. The cameras are all off, but still standing on their tripods, pointing towards a throne in the center of the room. There are props stacked against the wall, guns, polished swords and flags for varying countries in various states of disrepair.

Bucky spends so much time looking into the room, that he ends up needing to duck into it when Killian and his guard turn a corner at the end of the hall. He dives into and takes cover behind the curtains draped around the throne as the guard and Killian come back and look in. They spend a few minutes inspecting the room, making noises about being sure they saw something. Bucky holds his breath and prays they don't find him. Somebody must have been listening, because they eventually just shrug it off and leave, shutting the door behind them.

Figuring he has pushed his luck enough today, Bucky stays where he is as they leave. He doesn't want to draw more attention to himself with opening the door, and now since they spotted a hair of him, they will be more guarded. After their footsteps can no longer be heard echoing through the hall, he slowly slinks out from behind the curtain, half expecting someone to be waiting in the room with him, and sighs when no one is there. Deciding to let them get some distance before he leaves, he searches the room for anything useful. He is immediately drawn to the large selection of rifles, handguns and automatic weapons hung and leaned against the wall. When he leans down to inspect some of them, he finds them oddly light. Further inspection reveals them all to be cleverly made props. They cock like they have ammo in them, and some of their chambers open, or their magazines drop out, but there is no ammo, and they would obviously fall apart if they shot anything heavier than a balled up piece of paper. Bucky huffs, somewhat disappointed that he can't blast his way out of here Howling Commando style, but hopefully, once he figures out if Rhodey is here or not, they can use the suit to get out.

Bucky waits another ten minutes before he exits the room. Not even the swords were sharpened, so the room was a complete and total bust from that standpoint, he pats the handgun he has shoved in back of his jeans, glad to have some form of protection, even if it wouldn't do him much good if he got swarmed.

He slowly walks down the hall that both Killian and the guard went, keeping close to the shadows. Luckily, it seems that most of everyone is gathered in the main part of the basement level as Bucky peers around the corner. There are about twenty people gathered in the large open floor, working on various projects or toting guns and pointing them at the tacky red, white, and blue Iron Man suit hung in the back. Bucky wonders if this is some way of saving money on target practice by combining their two enemies into one convenient target before Killian steps forward and inspects it. He runs his hands along the pieces in a way that seems reverent before he starts digging his fingers between the larger gaps, obviously looking for some kind of release hatch. That must be the Iron Patriot they were talking about.

“The suit went into lockdown as soon as we got it on the transport,” one person, a pretty woman with blond hair, says. She presses a molten orange hand to the suit's flank, but there is no outward reaction. “Do you think he's even still alive in there?”

“Oh, I'm alive,” a male voice says from the suit's speakers, though it doesn't light up or respond in any other way. Bucky may not recognize the suit, but he thinks that the man inside must be Rhodey and that suit must be the previously titled War Machine. He is the only person other than Steve Tony talked about trusting with his suits after all.

“Well… I'd rather not kill Tony's best friend just yet. I am starting a collection, and I don't want it incomplete when I show it to him,” Killian says conversationally, confirming Bucky's suspicions. “See if you can't get him out the old fashioned way. Oh, and try not to break the suit.”

The woman nods and snaps her fingers at some of the surrounding men. They all scatter and gather various tools, everything from a pick and hammer, to a hacksaw. “Get it done, guys.”

He turns and Bucky ducks back around the corner into a nearby room. It's another one of those medical rooms, and Bucky swallows thickly as unpleasant memories flood to the forefront of his mind. He can hear Killian make his way back up through the hall, and forcibly tamps the memories down. Out of time, he presses himself against the wall on the other side of the small bed and tries not to vomit when he sees that there are gruesome diagrams on it.

Killian stops right outside the door to the room Bucky has chosen to hide in. Again, Bucky holds his breath, and listens carefully. “Hello, Bucky,” Killian says, voice loud and echoing through the halls. Despite everything screaming in him to run, Bucky remains still, pressed to the wall, trying in vein to still his rapidly beating heart lest Killian hear it.

There are several, prolonged minutes of silence, and then Killian resumes walking. “Huh. I thought that would work.” Bucky sighs in relief. He nearly lost it all to a bluff, but he kept it together.

He peels himself away from the wall, shirt sticking to his body with nervous sweat, listening to another guard approach Killian in the hall. “He's here,” the guard says. Bucky tenses again. How could they possibly know that? “Stark… and Captain America. They infiltrated the compound, but I got them.” Bucky's heart leaps into his throat, fear gripping his core when he hears that. That news is so much worse than them finding him. His mind immediately jumps to the thought that both Steve and Tony had come and been killed, and it takes everything in him to suppress the sob rising in his throat. “We've got them locked in Dr. Hansen's lab. Captain America's conscious, but Stark's not.”

Bucky nearly collapses at the news. They aren't safe, but at least they are alive. “Great!” Killian says gleefully. “Let's go say hi.”

Both Killian and the guard make their way out of the basement, while Bucky remains frozen where he stands, trying to come up with another plan. Saving Rhodey will provide him with a valuable ally, but Steve and Tony are also captured. Buky wonders if he can free them alone. He shakes his head. Even if he can't, he owes it to them to try. At least he can make contact with Tony, perhaps make a plan of escape, even if he can't totally free the man.

After waiting a healthy amount of time for any passing guards, he dashes out into the hall and up the stairs, retracing his steps and hoping against hope he can recall where Maya's lab is. Three twisting hallways later and he stumbles upon the room he had vacated earlier that day, the door still hanging awkwardly off its hinges from where it had been kicked in. He makes another turn, only to be greeted by the group of guards tasked with looking for him. There are about three of them now, it seems they had wizened up and split up to look for him, and before he can duck back behind the corner, one man spots him and shouts.

“You! Freeze!”

Bucky doesn't, he sprints down the hall, trying to get as much distance between him and the other men as possible. He pulls the hand gun out and switches the safety off, cocking it with his thumb. All the while, he can hear the guards stomping after him, radioing his position in to the other guards. “Stop!” another shouts, and then there is a gun shot.

The shot is lucky, it hits the muzzle of his own handgun and shoots it out of his hand. Bucky curses and speeds up instead, leaving the gun on the floor. Once the first shot is fired, there are countless more, pinging off the floor at Bucky's feet and embedding into the walls around him. Bucky ducks and weaves between them as best he can, but there is no doubt in his mind that everyone in the compound knows exactly where he is. “Stop! Or we'll shoot!” one of the guards yells belatedly.

“You're already shooting, you asshole!” Bucky shouts back, giving them all pause for a second. It's almost like they didn't realize that he could talk back. He uses the momentary ceasefire to make a hasty turn, flipping them the bird. That must rile one of them up enough to continue firing, because before he has completely turned the corner, he takes a bullet to his poor, abused left shoulder. The universe must have it out for his whole left arm, Bucky thinks bitterly and then curses. He brings his right hand up to press against the front of his shirt, seeing it come away bloody, the bullet had gone all the way through. In his relief, Bucky's socked feet slip as he goes around a corner, propelling him into an opposite wall that he has to brace himself against momentarily. He leaves a gruesome bloody handprint when he pushes off, but ignores it, as he can hear the guards close behind.

He manages to propel himself around another corner before the guards, fueled by an extra rush of adrenaline from the gunshot wound. Behind him, he can hear the guards shouting at each other.

“Catch him before he bleeds out, you idiots! Look at this!”

“Oh god, the boss is gonna kill us!”

“How is he still so goddamn fast!?”

Bucky eventually makes a wrong turn in his blind running, because he comes up on a dead end. There are two doors on either side, both closed and an ugly painting hung on the wall between them. He can hear the guards quarreling and shouting nearby, and its only a matter of time before they find him. He realizes that he is leaving a speckled trail where he is standing the floor, so there is no way he can disappear and hide in one of the rooms and hope they don't discover he was in the hallway to begin with. Thinking fast, Bucky carefully avoids scuffing his feet through the blood, making his way over to one door. He presses his hand into the wound, soaking it in blood and grabbing the door handle quickly and pressing his shoulder to the wood of the door, leaving smudges making it look like he had crashed into the door in his haste to get inside. Then he wipes his hand on his pants, making his way to the other door quickly as the guards grow ever louder. He opens it and stumbles inside, slamming it behind him loudly, hoping the guards didn't see.

Pressing his ear to the door, he can hear the guards round the corner, cursing at his mess and then going for the door with his hand print on it. They throw it open with a large amount of racket, and Bucky takes that moment to quietly click the lock of his door, buying himself a little more time.

He doesn't wait to hear their reaction to the empty room, only thanking his ma's god that the plan worked. The room he is in is an office, and thankfully, it has a window. Bucky stumbles over to it and pries it open as quietly as he can. He finds to his immense relief that he is still on the first floor, and probably thanks to Tony and Steve's earlier infiltration, there are no guards outside. Bucky climbs out of the window and sprints through the grass, not bothering to check if he is leaving a trail of blood. He isn't bleeding profusely, so any stray droplets will be lost among the green blades of grass. Now he just needs to find a way back inside and to Tony and Steve before the guards find him again. And a way to staunch the bleeding from his shoulder.

Steve comes to before Tony, groggy with whatever drug the guy injected him with. He is strapped upright, reinforced metal cuffs around both his wrists and strapping his ankles. He tests the restraints lightly, jerking his wrists against the metal. It budges the apparatus he is tied to, and he thinks, if given time, he could pry his way out by tearing apart.

The noise attracts someone and Steve rolls his head towards a woman slowly making her way towards him. “It's Maya, right?” Steve slurs, still wiggling his wrists.

“You remembered my name, I'm impressed,” she says, not sounding particularly sincere. Steve continues to squirm, the cuffs rattling against the frame. “If you keep doing that, I'm going to have to sedate you,” she warns.

Steve stills obligingly, but glares nastily at her. “That answers the question of if you're with them,” he says morosely. “Why are you doing this?”

“I wasn't planning on all this,” Maya defends. “I just wanted to continue my research and Killian had the money. By the time I realized what he was doing, I was in too deep.”

“Is that why you were at Tony's house? To ask for help?” Steve asks. He is still now, watching Maya with a critical eye, looking for a sign that she might be lying.

“I went to warn him,” Maya states. “I suspected what Killian was up to and I figured it was only fair, considering our history.”

Steve frowns sourly. “You didn't do very much good,” he states.

Maybe if you all hadn't been arguing...” Maya scolds. “That's beside the point. It doesn't matter anymore. Killian has more than what he wanted now.”

“He hasn't killed Tony yet,” Steve points out, figuring that to be Killian's ultimate goal.

“That's not what he wants. Not really,” she says vaguely in reply.

“Where's Bucky?” Steve asks instead of following that troubling train of thought.

“So it is him,” Maya mutters to herself before looking back up at Steve. “We underestimated him,” Maya says. “Not enough sedative and restraints that were too flimsy. He escaped. Though, last I heard, he is still in the compound somewhere.”

Steve grins at that. “That wasn't smart. He's a Howling Commando, he'll give you the slip easier than anything.”

“They'll find him,” Maya says firmly. “And Killian will make sure his life is miserable once they do.” She sounds scolding, like Steve shouldn't be proud of his friend besting them.

“You won't find him,” Steve says firmly. “Not unless he wants you to.”

“Let's hope you're right,” Maya says quietly.

The door opens and another man strides in, grinning widely. “Steve Rogers. Captain America!” he announces.

“You're Killian?” Steve demands as the man walks around the top floor of their holding area and down a set of stairs.

“My reputation precedes me,” Killian says, coming to a stop in front of Steve.

“Not really,” Steve says cheekily. “You've got the biggest mouth and the bearing of a cocky asshole. Figured you might be the one in charge.”

Killian's smile falters only slightly before he looks up at Steve and offers a hand. “Well, let me introduce myself. Aldrich Killian.” Steve looks at the offered hand flatly. Killian looks down, falsely surprised, and retracts his hand. “Oh! I'm sorry. How rude of me,” he says, sounding mockingly kind. “You're a little tied up right now.

“I really am honored,” Killian goes on. “Captain America… in my labs! I thought catching Bucky Barnes a victory, but then here you came, practically delivering yourself into my arms….” He gesticulates grandly.

“Of course… your friend gave me the slip...” His eyes flick to Maya momentarily. “But we'll find him, and when we do, we can have a great reunion!” His sentence is punctuated by the sound of distant shouting and gunshots. They echo through the cavernous room, filling Steve with dread. Killian turns towards the door before turning back to Steve. “That might be him now. Let's hope the guards know where they're aiming.”

Tony chooses that moment to groan himself awake. He takes a deep breath through his nose and tugs against the restraints rattling the bed frame he is tied to loudly. “What the hell…?” he asks breathlessly. He rolls his head up. “Maya…?”

“Hi, Tony,” Maya says, a small and sardonic, smile twisting her lips. “Just like old times.”

“Yeah… with the zip ties and everything,” Tony says bitterly, twisting his wrists.

“Tony!” Killian greets jubilantly, throwing his arms out, seemingly to welcome Tony into a hug. “I thought you'd never join us!”

Tony groans again, like Killian is a particularly annoying alarm clock, fixing him with a calculating stare. Killian plows on speaking, oblivious. “Steve, here, and I were just having a conversation about your friend Bucky. Though… from what I hear, you might be a little more than friends, yeah?” he tilts his head questioningly at Tony. Tony merely stares at him, face kept carefully blank. “That throws a pretty big wrench in my plan, actually. I'm not homophobic or anything, some of my best soldiers are gay...” he pauses to chuckle. “But now I'm questioning how much you actually care about Pepper….”

Tony's wrists slam against the ties again, jerking the whole frame forward slightly. “What did you do to her, you bastard?!” he shouts, squirming and struggling, nostrils flaring as he glares down at Killian.

Killian's grin grows cruel. “Nothing much. It's really Bucky you should be worried about right now." Tony clearly tries to keep a handle on himself, but his nostrils flair as he fails to keep control of his breathing. "I don't know if you remember, but we've met before,” he tells Tony, pacing in front of him. “I don't mind if you don't… I was a very different person back then.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Tony says, though the way he is squinting at him gives away that he doesn't quite remember the man before him.

“You really should reconsider whose company you're keeping, Captain,” Killian goes on, turning to Steve. “Granted, I was young, I didn't have credentials, just a dream and stars in my eyes, but when I approached Tony Stark and Maya Hansen that night, I had a vision, a dream. Tony kicked that and me to the curb. He didn't even have the courtesy to ignore me, no, he had to drive the point home. He left me waiting on a roof for hours…” He turns back to Tony. “While I was waiting there, I was considering taking the one way express elevator… to the first floor.” His eyes practically pin Tony down, hard and intense, but also hungry in a way that makes Steve anxious. “But… while I was waiting up there, I realized something… You gave me a gift.” He extracts a small device from his pocket and clicks a button, a hologram of Pepper, silently screaming and struggling, strapped to some kind of apparatus flickers into view. “Desperation… and that's what I'm giving you, Tony.”

Tony says nothing, only licks his lips and breathes hard as he stares at Pepper's image, going pale. Steve strains against his bonds, the metal bending silently around his wrists and the frame, unable to handle Steve's own desperation.

“Right now,” Killian begins, clearly satisfied with the collective reaction. “She's in the first phase. The body is trying to decide if it will accept extremis or reject it… until then, it's really just a lot of pain...”

Tony's fists clench and unclench, face dissolving into worry. Steve fights on his behalf, still trying to wrench himself out of his restraints. He can take Killian, even if the man is enhanced. The frame he is cuffed to snaps when Steve flinches because Killian surges forward and clutches Tony's throat, muttering something inaudible. Both of Steve's cuffed hands slide off the bar, and Steve prepares to lunge forward, but it is Maya who speaks up first.

“Let him go, Killian,” Maya says loudly. She has an injector pressed hard into her neck.

“Maya, what are you doing?” Killian asks, loosening his grip on Tony's throat in order to turn his attention to her.

“This is more than enough to kill me, you know that, Killian,” Maya says firmly, though she is betrayed by the shaking of her hand. “What happens if I die, Killian? What happens to your project? What happens to you?” she asks. Killian's smile fades and he turns to Tony, muttering something about not being able to get any good help. Steve can see the gun before either Tony or Maya, and pops the last cuff off with one hand before he dives in front of Maya as the gun goes off. The bullet cuts through the meat of his arm, non-lethal, but it hurts. Maya screams and Tony yells his name and even Killian curses. Steve wastes no time, surging toward Killian and tackling him to the ground, landing a solid hit with his fist against Killian's jaw and knocking the gun from his hand. Another hit almost indents his chest. Killian coughs, but digs his fingers into Steve's injured arm. Steve shouts, then comes forward and headbutts Killian straight in the nose. They tumble backwards, Steve on top of Killian. Killian's face glows as his head hits the concrete floor, blood spurts from his nose and the damage basically flakes away seconds later. Killian kicks Steve off of him and rolls to his feet.

“I guess only have to keep you alive… You don't need to have all your pieces for the tests we need.” He charges Steve and lands a few punches of his own. Steve knows what to expect, though it does not make the punches any softer. They still send him backwards, reeling and spitting blood from a cut his teeth caused in his cheek. The punches are scalding as well as rock solid, adding a new dimension to the pain the blows cause and catching Steve off guard. It is like being hit repeatedly with the blunt edge of a red hot poker. Steve powers through it though, determined to save both Maya and Tony.

The commotion inevitably draws the attention of guards, and they spill in from the top entrance, pointing guns at the brawl occurring below. Steve makes the mistake of looking up at them, and Killian takes the opportunity to kick Steve through a desk. Steve rolls out of the pile of hardwood and chucks a chunk of it at Killian, before charging after him again. They are both moving lightning fast, exchanging and dodging blows and hardly faltering when they connect. Despite their speed, as soon as one of the guards has a clear shot, he shoots Steve in the knee. Steve's leg buckles, but he grits his teeth through the pain, still grappling with Killian, and remains stubbornly upright. Once he manages to push Killian back a few steps, he turns a feral glare on the man he knows shot him. The guard's hands shake, as if the force of Steve's stare was a physical blow, and he drops his gun. Steve gains a bit of savage satisfaction from that reaction, and steps backwards to hoist the remains of the broken desk above his head, throwing it with all his might at the guard and the ones surrounding him. If they were not cowed by Steve's behavior, they certainly are by the desk hurtling at them, and they all scatter in different directions, retreating out the door or to press themselves against the wall, out of the fight for now.

Those guards taken care of, Steve attacks Killian again, pushing him back and holding his own despite his injured arm and knee. Killian manages to kick Steve in the sternum with an bestial yell, and Steve is propelled backwards, slamming into the wall. His body sends cracks through the brick work and he coughs, partly because of the dust knocked loose by his impact and partly because he just had all his wind knocked out of him.

Killian laughs cruelly, pupils glowing an ominous orange. He takes a deep, wet sounding breath, then, when he lets it out, it turns to flames. Steve scrambles out of the way with a startled yelp, feeling the fire singe the sleeves of his shirt. Killian is relentless, following him around the room, and Steve forces his arms up when he has no where else to go, blocking the flames from reaching his face and chest. He can hear Tony shouting his name, and Maya's hoarse scream over the roar of the flames and the burning of his forearms. After the onslaught, Steve collapses onto his ass, breathing harshly and shivering after the heat. Killian stalks after him, towering over him and grinning.

The door behind him slams wide open and everyone turns their attention to the interruption. A group of guards, heavily armed and armored, stumble into the room, all trembling slightly. “Sir… Sir, we… Barnes has escaped,” one of the bolder ones says. “We… We lost him… in the yard.”

Killian stomps angrily, causing all the guards to stumble back as spiderweb cracks form in the pavement under his feet. “Do I have to do everything around here?” he demands, turning fully towards them. “Why did I even hire you?!” Steve can hear the tell-tale intake of breath and acts quickly. He lunges forward, fist tunneling through Killian's chest like tissue paper. The man before him stops and stiffens without a sound, and the guards take that moment to scramble out of the room.

Steve extracts his fist, and Killian lurches forward slightly, but doesn't fall. Steve watches with sick fascination as the hole he opened up closes quickly, skin reaching toward skin almost of its own accord and knitting the hole shut. The rest of the guards that aren't on the ground or gone, stare too. The room is silent when Killian starts laughing, a monstrous and unhinged sound. They all take the chance to run too, nearly pushing each other over in an attempt to escape.

“Looks like your soldiers aren't all that loyal,” Steve points out, cutting off Killian's laughter. “Who'll fight your war now?”

“They can be replaced,” Killian says predictably. Steve frowns. Killian turns to face Steve, the only evidence of Steve's mortal wound to him, the large hole in his shirt. “Just like you will be once Tony cracks the code.”

Tony coughs, drawing both Steve's and Killian's attentions to him. “Uh… Yeah, you're assuming I'll do that,” Tony says. He doesn't sound confident, especially not in that fast, anxious voice of his. “You're assuming I can do it,” he corrects. “Believe it or not, my best work is not done under pressure.” Steve has a hard time believing that, he watched Tony create a whole arsenal with miscellaneous junk from Home Depot and three hours of time, but Tony seems sure of himself nonetheless. “My best work is usually done when I'm drunk...” he trails off. His face is pale and his expression is bleak. “I don't know why you think I could… I'm an engineer, not a biochemist. You want robots? Hell, I'll build you as many as you want as long as you leave Steve, Bucky and Pepper alone, but this extremis stuff? I can't fix it for you. You're SOL.”

Killian grinds his teeth in frustration. “But you have!” he insists. “You've done it before!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tony asks, sounding clearly perplexed.

Killian just stares at Tony, teeth bared in barely contained rage. “New Years, 1999,” Maya intervenes. “Desperation,” she wrinkles her nose at Killian's dramatic phrasing. “Desperation wasn't the only gift you gave, I guess.” She flips a small name tag out of her breast pocket, it is crumpled, yellowing and clearly old. On the back there is a hastily scribbled formula.

Tony looks at it, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. “Did I do that?” he asks.

“Yes!” Maya insists, incredulous. “It was only a temporary fix, but it… it worked. You can do it again.”

“I don't remember that,” Tony says, shrugging carelessly. “Must have been drunk...” In the corner of the room, Harley's sister's watch begins to beep, catching all their attention. “I gave up benders when I started dating Bucky,” Tony continues, as if the watch had not sounded. “He doesn't mind so much, but I want to make a good impression on a certain someone,” his eyes slide to Steve. “I'm pretty sure I don't have a chance, but it's worth a try, right?” Steve feels a small flush of confusion, was Tony talking about him? “Guess I can try to win him over by kicking your asses!” he says, spreading his fingers wide, like he expects something explosive to happen at the moment.

All four of them stand in confusion as absolutely nothing happens. “Wait for it, it takes a while,” Tony mutters, eyeing Steve nervously, a small flush rising in his cheeks. Another few seconds pass with nothing. “Damn it.”

“All this pressure really has made you crack,” Killian says with a laugh. “You think...”

He is cut off when one of Tony's gauntlets smashes through one of the windows, spraying glass across the floor. It snaps the zip tie as it wraps around Tony's wrist, and Tony fires at Killian, knocking him across the floor. “Sorry, were you saying something?” Tony snarks, breaking the other zip tie easily, just in time to catch the other gauntlet, followed by a boot that wraps around his foot. He fires at the remaining guards, sending them sprawling or running, quickly obliterating the rest of their loyalty for Killian.

Killian curses and spits at Tony, face a glowing orange mask of rage, lava churning just under his skin. Maya has retreated farther into the lab, taking cover behind Steve, while the super soldier and Tony lock Killian in combat.

They think they have taken care of all the guards, but one last one storms in. Steve looks up to catch glimpse of the man they killed the night before, the man that easily captured them after catching them off guard. He runs straight to Steve and punches him hard in the face, knocking him away from Killian, while the man blocks a blast from Tony's gauntlet.

“Change of plans!” Killian shouts, taking another breath and spewing flames at Tony and Steve. Killian and the other man take advantage of Steve and Tony dodging out of the way to run, slamming the door behind them. Tony is the first to pursue, now with one more boot in addition to his gauntlets, and Steve is not far behind.

Bucky's list of experiences he had never thought too much about is quickly expanding. He has had no shortage of hiding in bushes during the war, but one-handed first aid is a first. Now that he is doing it, he realizes it is as difficult as it sounds. He is crouched behind one of the thick bushes lining the compound walls, keeping his laborious breathing carefully quiet and prodding at the still bleeding wound in his shoulder. Despite the serum, it hasn't stopped or slowed, and Bucky is worried it might be getting worse, watching blood pool in the grass next to him. It hurts to poke at it more than Bucky was prepared for, leaving him light-headed and breathless when he runs his fingers over the entrance wound in his back. He sure does hate it when the bad guys have more guns than he does.

Knowing he doesn't have much time before he passes out from blood loss, Bucky makes quick work of his shirt, tearing the dirty fabric into strips and pressing it hard against the exit wound. Once it's soaked through, he merely throws it to the ground and replaces it with another strip. Despite his initial fears, he doesn't seem to be passing out any time soon, so the serum must be doing its job to replenish his blood well enough. He leans down into the grass, blinking hazily at the blue sky above him through the dappled leaves of the bushes and breathes through the pain.

Maybe he should turn himself in. He is no good to Steve or Tony dead… or maybe he is, he thinks muzzily, one less thing to worry about in this crazy shitstorm. He licks his lips and pushes down on the wound, pulling himself out of those destructive thoughts. He will let Tony decide whether or not he is worthless. He is pretty sure Tony would be devastated if he bled to death behind a bush in someone's yard and he refuses to get captured and experimented on again.

A long while passes, Bucky just keeping pressure on his shoulder and watching the clouds float by. “Shit!” someone hisses with conviction, and Bucky jumps harshly, jarring his wound. He sits up quickly and lashes out at the shadow now looming over him. His fist is easily caught, and instead of returning the blow, the figure gently presses Bucky's hand over his own chest. “It's alright. You're Sergeant Barnes, right? Bucky?” the man, Bucky discovers he is as the sun halos around his head, asks him cautiously. He is a black man, tall, with very worried dark eyes. Bucky thinks he has seen him somewhere before. “I'm Colonel James Rhodes… I know Tony. He calls me Rhodey.”

“War Machine!” Bucky says, puzzle pieces clicking into place. An arm comes around and supports his back, lifting him out of the grass a bit. “You're Tony's friend… Tony's best friend.”

“That's right… though it's Iron Patriot now,” Rhodey corrects. Bucky can't help snorting. “Shut up,” he snaps, but lays Bucky down with an enormous amount of gentleness and strips his own shirt off, leaving him in a sweat soaked undershirt. “How long ago were you shot?” he asks, feeling around the hole in Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky grunts at the feel of fingers brushing over the torn skin. “Thirty… forty minutes?” he says, unsure. “Didn't seem so bad until I started sitting still.”

“That's 'cause all the blood pools in one place.” Rhodey gently guides Bucky's hand to his shoulder pressing it over a wad of torn shirt. “Press hard on this,” he says, before leaning Bucky up and against his shoulder to look at his entrance wound. “You're lucky it went all the way through.”

“Don't feel lucky,” Bucky says, leaning his chin on Rhodey's shoulder and sighing. “How-- how did you get out?” He makes a sound of pain when Rhodey presses another wad of fabric to his back and presses down.

“They were trying to smoke me out… I heard gunshots. I figured I'd be more help out here than in there,” Rhodey explained. “I'm glad I found you.”

“Glad you found me too,” Bucky agrees. The rest of Rhodey's shirt is sacrificed to wrap Bucky's shoulder and hold their makeshift dressing in place.

When Rhodey holds him at arm's length and looks at him seriously, all Bucky can do is blink. He can see why this man is Tony's friend, he looks capable, but gentle, and obviously long-suffering if he can deal with Tony. He blinks again, trying to get his thoughts back on track. Now that he thinks about it, the serum might not have been working as great as he thought. “You okay? You're looking really pale.”

Bucky takes a deep breath through his nose. “We'll find out,” he says quietly. “Help me stand up?” he asks. Rhodey does, and together, with Bucky leaning heavily on him, they make their way onto a nearby porch attached to one of the compound's entrances, only to watch a flood of guards run out of the building. Rhodey brings his gun up and aims it at them, but they all just look at Bucky and Rhodey for a second before turning and running off.

“What's going on in there?” Rhodey asks, watching the retreating backs of the guards. “They could have easily taken us out.”

“Maybe you intimidated them too much without your shirt,” Bucky suggests with a loopy chuckle.

Rhodey laughs a little. “As flattered as I am, I don't think that's it…" He gives Bucky a little shake. "Don't pass out on me, Sergeant,” he commands, though there is definitely worry in his voice.

“Not gonna,” Bucky says firmly. “And call me Bucky… ain't a sergeant anymore.”

“If you say so,” Rhodey says, but doesn't sound convinced. There is the sound of an explosion, and a repulsor blast, shouting and heavy footfalls. “How much do you wanna bet that's ours?”

“You never know...” Bucky shrugs, but together they walk inside, pressing themselves against the far wall as Iron man shoots past them, followed by about a quarter of his pieces. Not far behind is Steve.

“Bucky!” Steve shouts, and Bucky can practically hear Tony put the brakes on his own pursuit with the squeaking of Steve's shoes on the tile flooring. “Bucky!” Steve shouts again, running to them. Before Bucky is entirely aware, Steve has his face in both his hands, practically snatching him from Rhodey's grasp. “Oh god, you're bleeding!” Steve says, hands moving down to prod at Bucky's wound.

“What'd I say about poking where it hurts, Steve?” Bucky admonishes, trying to brush his hand away. Steve gently lowers him to the floor, heedless of his words, and slowly pries away the dressing. Luckily there is no new welling of blood, proving that he and Rhodey's first-aid is working at least a little.

“They shot you?” Steve asks, devastated, but there is an undercut of rage. Bucky ignores it and grabs Steve's arm gently, examining the blistering burns on his forearms and the shot in his arm.

“What'd they do to you?” Bucky asks, shocked at the state Steve is in. He can see another clear injury in Steve's knee, and there are bruises climbing out of the collar of his shirt and lining his jaw. “Did they try to tenderize and cook you? What the hell?!” He brushes his fingers over the wound in Steve's arm and Steve winces, his fingers tightening in Bucky's wound. Bucky yelps despite himself, and Steve looks like Bucky just shot him.

“They hurt you,” Steve says, completely ignoring Bucky's questions.

“To be fair, I was running. They did warn me,” Bucky says with a wan smile, trying to get the kicked puppy look off of Steve's face. Arguably, it's hurting him more than his gunshot wound is.

Tony clunks up behind Steve, face plate flicking up, even as the butt of the suit crashes into him and knocks him forward.

“Wow… Rude,” Tony says, turning to glare at his own rear end.

Bucky can't help it, he laughs, an incredibly drunk sounding laugh. “It's only been two days and I missed you,” he says, still chuckling. “I really… really missed you.” He doesn't cry, but the laughing stops and he feels his eyes burn as his face crumples. Rhodey leans back and lets Tony take his place next to Steve. The two men crowd into Bucky's space, making comforting noises. “I thought you were dead… then I thought they were gonna kill you… then I thought they were gonna kill me and I wasn't--” Bucky cuts himself off with a harsh breath, pulling both Steve and Tony in for a one-armed hug, burying his nose in Steve's shoulder. “I think I might be a little loopy… sorry.”

Steve makes a worried noise, and Tony just chuckles softly. “We missed you too,” Tony says, his voice making up for the warmth that his suit lacks. They sit for a while, just taking each other in. Steve's hands slowly make their way over Bucky's body, looking for additional wounds, while Tony talks to him softly, metal hand firmly set on his uninjured shoulder. Bucky reciprocates Steve's own ministrations where he can, making worried noises over every bruise and burn, every drop of blood he finds.

“Uh… Guys...” Rhodey cuts in a moment later, looking out the door he and Bucky had just entered. "Hate to break up the reunion, but..." This prompts all of them to look up, just in time to watch Iron Patriot rocket out of the compound.

“Tell me you know who's in that suit,” Tony says, walking over to the door.

“Afraid not, Tony,” Rhodey replies.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	29. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back together, and there is some downtime before the big showdown. Emotional conversations ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter was HARD to write. The dialogue continually came off as cheesy no matter how many times I rewrote it, though that might just be my perception of purely emotionally based dialogue. Either way, let me know what you think and how I might go about improving!
> 
> Chapter title is from Iron Man 3 once again.
> 
> Warnings: talk and treatment of injuries, and absolutely enormous amounts of melodrama and cheese
> 
> Again, thank you all for your support and I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm toying around with the idea of posting another fanfiction I've been writing for a while now, it will have the same OT3 focus because I can't be stopped. It definitely will not be more important than this one. It'll probably update along the lines of, if I have time to update this one and that one, then I will, but this one will always be updated first and more regularly. That being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will do my best to update as quickly as I can!

Bucky lost himself for a while after the Iron Patriot armor escaped. He had told Rhodey he wasn't going to pass out, but then Steve and Tony had left to search the compound for stragglers, and the sudden relief of being safe had been too much. He plummeted straight down into the dark.

When he wakes up again, Tony is carrying him bridal style in the suit. His metal arms brace his knees and his back and there is a cushion of all thing pillowing his head against Tony's metal chest. He looks up up at Tony with a groan, blinking languidly.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Tony says with a small smile, though there is something anxious lurking in his eyes. “You with us?”

“A little,” Bucky says, still fighting the urge to sleep. “Where are we going?” he asks, turning his head to look at their surroundings. Tony is carrying him towards what looks like a dock at the back of the compound, a boat floats there, obviously their destination. “Where's Steve?” He can only see Rhodey walking with them.

“We're going for a ride,” Tony says. “Gotta get Rhodey's suit back. Steve is sweeping the compound for some medical supplies and anything else he can scrounge up. We gotta fix up your shoulder.” He sounds worried, and there is a little furrow between his brows. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a princess,” Bucky says with a little smirk. “Shoulder smarts, but it isn't so bad.”

“It's still bleeding a little, so Steve wants to take a look,” Tony says, returning Bucky's smile with a wobbly one of his own. “What happened? How'd they get you? I thought I told you not to stop...”

Bucky frowns at Tony's insinuation, not that he would disobey, but that he would listen to that request in the first place. Then he gasps as he remembers the whole reason Killian was able to get him in the first place. “Natasha ran me off the damn road!” he snaps, both anger and fear flooding him. He squirms at the sudden flush of urgency and tries to sit up in Tony's arms. Tony does his best to keep hold of him, but it's a losing battle. “She's working for them, Tony! Shield… or Hydra, hell if I know. She followed me from the mansion, tried to kidnap me.”

“Bucky, lay back, would you?!” Tony yells over him, nearly dropping him. The sudden jarring movement of him tightening his grip pushes a moan out of Bucky as his shoulder bangs into Tony's chest. “Jesus! See! This is why we listen to Tony!” Tony mutters, leaning down to settle Bucky gently on the ground as the other breathes through the pain.

Once he has a good enough breath, Bucky starts shouting again. “I'm serious, Tony!” Bucky insists, even as he relaxes back. “We can't trust her.”

“I believe you, Bucky,” Tony says, making a point of meeting Bucky's eyes. “I should have known. I didn't think they would send her of all people. She's already betrayed me once....” His face is grave, and he looks guilty as he looks down at Bucky. "I let my guard down. I shouldn't have trusted her. I shouldn't have let you guys get involved in this."

“It ain't your fault, Tony, you know that,” Bucky says firmly, though it does little to reassure Tony. “We're back together now… That's what matters.”

“You were supposed to be somewhere save,” Tony argues. “You weren't supposed to get caught up in this. Neither of you were.”

Bucky growls in frustration and knocks Tony's chest with his fist. “Maybe that's not what I want!” he says. He had been planning on keeping his own insecurities and misgivings to himself, but Tony's attitude made all his doubts come surging forth. “I know I'm… I'm worthless to you like this, okay, Tony? I can't shoot, I can barely fight, and I know that makes me a liability,” he rambles, not meeting Tony's eyes. “But I still… I don't care. Tony, I want to be with you. I want to fight with you, and I don't give a shit how much danger you think that puts me in.” This time he does meet Tony's eyes, staring into them earnestly. “I know you don't think you'd know what you'd do if you lost me. I got your messages loud and clear. But I feel the same way. I don't know what I'd do if you or Steve… if you both got killed and I was sitting safely somewhere."

Tony lowers his head, taking a breath through his nose. “I don't think you're worthless,” he says.

Bucky makes a frustrated noise. “Doesn't change the fact that I am.”

“I...” Tony sounds like he is going to argue again, but changes tracks. “I just… I don't want to lose you.”

“You said that. The feeling is mutual,” Bucky says softly. “That's why you gotta let me be a part of this. I want to make sure you're safe too. This isn't a one-way thing, it's gotta be give and take.

“You said that arm you made was to protect me,” Bucky continues. “Next time, make me something I can use to protect you too. Next time, give me a way to come find you and save you. Don't push me away. Let me help you.”

Tony nods and takes another deep breath, readying himself to stand and continue on with Bucky. Then he pauses, mid-stand, apparently processing what Bucky just said. “Wait… the arm. You used the arm?”

Bucky frowns. “Yeah. I pulled it out when Natasha attacked,” he explains. “I didn't get to use it for very long, though. Two of Killian's goons knocked me a good one first,” he says. “I only had it really on for a good fifteen minutes. It did some damage while I had it, though. Helped me knock out Natasha.”

“And it worked?” Tony prompts, all of his reflection and guilt apparently thrown out the window in favor of information about the arm. “It didn't hurt? It fit alright? No shocking? It wasn't too loose or did it stay on?”

“It worked just fine. Stayed on just fine. It was heavy, but not anything I couldn't handle,” Bucky says. He can practically see the gears now turning in Tony's head, cataloging the information for later use. “If I could change anything, I'd like it to be something only I can take off… and it not be as heavy.”

“Done,” Tony says automatically. “I was really worried about the weight too. I figured it would mess up your back if you wore it for too long, kinda like when little kids wear heavy backpacks or something. The straps were supposed to help a little, but it can only do so much...” he trails off at Bucky's look. “It worked though… I didn't get a chance to run a full diagnostic test, and I didn't want it to zap you. I mean, I tried it on myself, but I didn't have time to run it through all possible situations… I didn't have Bruce to consult on the final model either, but hopefully we'll be able to make a better model soon… Something with a little more polish.”

Bucky tries to keep the excitement off his face. “In the meantime, tell Steve to keep an eye out for it?” he asks. "Can't wear it right now. But it's got sentimental value." He is pretty sure Tony won't let him go look for it himself, not with his shoulder the way it is.

As if he were called by the mere mention of his name, Steve speaks up and Bucky can see him jogging out of the compound over Tony's metal-clad shoulder. “I found what I could,” he calls once he is a bit closer. He has Bucky's metal arm slung over his shoulder, a hefty first aid kit in one hand and a few handguns in the other. “The guards must have ran off with most of the valuable stuff,” he says apologetically. “I couldn't find anything with a lot of firepower.” Tony stands the rest of the way with Bucky, and Steve falls into step with them. Rhodey relieves him of the guns, so that Steve can readjust the arm and keep it from sliding off his shoulders.

“You got a first-aid kit, that was what we were really looking for,” Tony says, shrugging. “I got my suit, so any other weapons we get are just bonus.”

“And my arm,” Bucky says, grinning at Steve.

Steve smiles back at him, but just like with Tony, there is an undercurrent of worry there. “'Course. You really need to work on not losing your limbs. This is getting old,” he says.

Rhodey nearly spits and looks almost scandalized. Obviously Steve's more humorous side is not as readily known to the public. Bucky just laughs. “I swear it isn't me. The universe just has something against my whole left side.”

Steve's eyes land on the mess of make-shift bandages wrapping around Bucky's shoulder, and the amount of bruising littering the visible parts of Bucky's body. Most of the damage does indeed sit on Bucky's left side. If the lack of arm and hand weren't enough, Bucky is severely deficient when it comes to defending his left side with or without the arm there. He desperately needs Tony to improve the left arm, if not for combat purposes, then to level him out.

“Come on, Steve. Don't look at me like that,” Bucky cajoles, once he sees Steve's expression slowly darkening. “It's not your fault.” He feels Tony's arms tighten around him, and he doesn't need to see the man's face to know that Tony is blaming himself. “It's not anyone's fault,” he says firmly.

“You are all so melodramatic,” Rhodey comments then. “They don't tell you about this in history class. Bucky, you lucky bastard, you've got both Tony Stark _and_ Steve Rogers wrapped so tight around your finger that you've got them acting like teenagers… Not that that's very different for Tony, he just usually acts more punk and less emo,” he says, a small smirk curving his lips. “I've never seen Tony more sorry for something in his life, and he puked on my CO… twice.”

“Excuse you, I'm more punk _rock_ ,” Tony announces, turning his head to playfully glare at Rhodey. “And the second time wasn't my fault. I was sick.”

“Both times you were hungover,” Rhodey insists, following close behind them. “That doesn't count as 'sick.' Especially with how often you'd drink.”

“You still love me,” Tony says flippantly and Rhodey doesn't argue, just rolls his eyes. The boat is small, but lavishly furnished, a covered area for the helmsman and a passenger and several seats in the back. He lays Bucky down on the back-most seat, making sure to settle him so that his shoulder isn't jostled.

He pulls back, but not before gripping Bucky's hand momentarily, the metal gentle, but firm. “Steve's gonna get you fixed up,” he promises. “Rhodey needs to remember how to drive a boat, and I've gotta track down that suit.”

“You won't be far,” Bucky fills in for him with a cheeky grin. “I get it, go save the world, so you can build be a cool new arm.”

“Definitely,” Tony says. He leans down and gives Bucky a chaste kiss on the mouth as Steve and Rhodey approach. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bucky replies, suddenly feeling very relieved. He hadn't realized how much he had wanted to say those three words in return. Tony must have wanted to hear them too, because although he does a good job of hiding it, he has more of a spring to  his step as he pushes Rhodey towards the wheel of the boat.

Steve kneels next to him, but spares a few moments to watch Tony walk away. “How are you feeling, Buck?” he says, turning his attention back on his friend. He kneels next to Bucky on the seat and sets the first-aid kit by his knees and flips it open. The first thing he pulls out is a small syringe labeled morphine. He looks at it contemplatively then turns an apologetic look on Bucky. “I'm not sure this will work, but we can try it...” he suggests.

“Nah. We both know it won't work. Don't waste it,” Bucky says, and Steve gets that constipated, worried look on his face. “Hey, Steve. I've had worse with less, you know that. It'll be fine, I can take it.”

“I wish you didn't have to,” Steve says mournfully, but sets the syringe back in it's place and withdraws the things he needs to clean, stitch and bandage. “Don't let me hurt you too bad.”

“You won't,” Bucky affirms, grabbing hold of Steve's wrist. “I trust you.”

Steve gets to work soon after, slowly unwrapping the remains of Rhodey's shirt from Bucky's shoulder and very slowly prying fabric from the skin, soaking it liberally with bottled water. Cleaning the wound out is what really strains Bucky's endurance. Steve is worried about infection, and the fact that they only had Bucky's dirty shirt to sop of the blood and Rhodey's sweaty over shirt to bandage with doesn't help reassure him. They also don't have any fancy sprays or creams that Bruce introduced to them, too high tech even for this well-equipped first-aid kit. They have to settle for flushing out the wound with another bottle of water found in the boat's emergency rations and a saline solution after Rhodey chided Steve for his first attempt at using peroxide. Bucky didn't like people yelling at Steve, but it was a small sacrifice not to have to suffer through the burning that peroxide caused. Luckily, the bleeding after the cleaning is nothing but a slow ooze, so Steve figures he doesn't have to go digging around in the wound or suturing it.

“If it keeps bleeding, I'll have to call Bruce,” Steve says as he presses a sterile dressing to the wound. He has Bucky leaned up a pile of cushions cannibalized from the rest of the boat to make both sides of his wound easily accessible. “I don't know if we're supposed to stitch this or not... or even how...” Bucky knows the feeling. The both of them are well-trained in triage, but their training only goes so far as to help until they can hand the injured party off to a doctor.

It's not long before Bucky's shoulder is clean and bandaged with white gauze. Bucky practically looks like a mummy from the waist up and neck down, what with Steve having used an entire role of bandages to anchor his stump to his chest. He does a good, if clumsy, job though, and Bucky feels a lot better for it afterward, even if the pain still throbs in time with his heartbeat. In the background, Tony starts cursing about something. He quiets after a while, however, apparently having solved the issue. Not long after, Bucky catches the Iron Man suit taking off, but he is sure he can still see Tony in the passenger's seat. Steve soon blocks his view of him while fussing over Bucky.

Relatively alone and at peace, Bucky can take a moment to truly assess Steve. The first things his eyes are drawn towards are the burns littering Steve's arms. “You should take care of those,” he says, capturing Steve's wrist and inspecting them. “They gotta hurt.”

“It's fine. They'll heal,” Steve says, giving Bucky a fond, but exasperated smile. “Focus on yourself.”

“Nope,” Bucky replies stubbornly. “I'm all taken care of. Now we're taking care of you,” he says. He struggles into a sitting position, which gains him a lot of shouting from Steve. “Shut up and come here. There's gotta be something for burns in here somewhere… Did you use all the bandages on me?” He leans down despite the pain in his shoulder and roots around in the first-aid kit, pulling out another roll of bandages and a little white tube with a name he can't make sense of, but is helpfully subtitled with 'burn cream' underneath the clean blue lettering. Not for the first time, Bucky is thankful to be in the 21st century with all its medical advancements. With the addition of Tony being here, perhaps they were meant to make their way to this year.

“Bucky, I swear!” Steve chides, dodging Bucky's persistent hand. “I'm fine! It'll heal. Lay down! You'll go into shock!” He pushes at Bucky's chest, which Bucky stubbornly resists. He gives up and sighs as Bucky tosses his prizes onto his own lap. “If I let you rub that junk on me, will you lay down?”

“Sure,” Bucky says breezily. “Now put your hand in my lap and hold it still,” he continues. Steve gives him an odd, teasing look and Bucky sighs. "You know what I mean. Hold still." He makes quick work of Steve's arms, gently spreading cream over the effected areas and although Steve insists it isn't necessary, Bucky can practically feel the way Steve relaxes as the ointment cools his burns. Steve actually helps him wrap the affected areas too. “See?” It's fine, but now it's _better_ ,” he tells Steve.

Steve sighs, but doesn't argue. “Now you lay down and get better,” he says. Bucky goes willingly, but Steve still helps him, guiding his head to the pillows and helping him swing his feet up onto the seat again.

They sit in companionable silence again, watching Tony and Rhodey discuss something at the helm of the boat. They are animated in their discussion, Tony gesticulating grandly and wildly while Rhodey does his best to keep up. It is clear they are both comfortable with each other and Bucky relaxes, choosing to focus on the other important person in his life, Steve. The man in question sits melancholy and contemplative, and Bucky catches him stealing furtive glances at him and at Tony.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks. “I'm fine, Tony's fine. We're all going to be just fine.”

“Tony's weird,” Steve blurts. His eyes widen momentarily, like he hadn't meant to say it so bluntly.

“No shit,” Bucky snorts. “But we knew that already. That's not what you're worried about.”

“He's been… he's been acting weird, hasn't he?” Steve says, turning to Bucky. “Has he talked to you? Are you two… are you two still okay?”

“We're fine,” Bucky says, somewhat guarded. “I'm a little pissed at him for handing out his home address, and then trying to get me even farther away from you two, but I'm not gonna break up with him for it. I know he had his reasons,” he continues.

“That's not...” Steve swallows and turns his gaze to Tony. “He's been… saying… weird things. I'm not sure what he's implying.” He lowers his gaze to his own lap. “I'm not sure what I feel about it either.” By the guilty expression on Steve's face, Bucky can already tell where this is going.

“He tell you yet?” Bucky asks, tired of Steve beating around the bush about it. Steve had never been one to hide his feelings, but in Bucky's new fragile state, and the tumultuous situation they are in, Steve has steadily become more reserved, more secretive. He holds back around Bucky in ways he never did before.

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, he looks shocked. “He hasn't… he hasn't said anything,” he continues. “I just… he's been hinting at something...”

“So… you gonna tell me what you think that is?” Bucky asks, cocking his eyebrow, growing frustrated. “I'm not a mind reader,” Steve.” That may be true, but Bucky is pretty sure he knows what Steve is insinuating. He just wishes he would spit it out, so they could actually talk about it.

“You've always known what I'm thinking,” Steve says, not looking up. “Before you could always guess.”

Bucky huffs. “Yeah, before you were more transparent,” he says. “You didn't use to hide stuff from me… Don't think I haven't noticed the muzzle you've been putting on yourself. You're gonna have to help me out here, Steve. You're not giving me anything.”

“I think Tony likes me,” Steve blurts, then hunches in on himself. “I don't… I don't think he likes me more than you… and you know I would never--”

“How do you feel about that?” Bucky cuts in smoothly. “Tony liking you.”

Steve breathes through his nose. “I couldn't do that to you, Buck,” he says.

“You're not doing anything yet,” Bucky says. He tries to keep the frustration out of his tone, but it is hard. “I know you wouldn't get between me and Tony. That's not what I'm asking.”

“I… I like him,” Steve says quietly. Bucky nods at him, waiting for him to say more. “You gotta understand, Bucky. I wouldn't… couldn't ever… butt in… between you two. No matter how I feel. I won't tell him… I wasn't even going to tell you because I--”

“What if I want you to tell him?” Bucky asks.

Steve gasps as if this is the most controversial thing Bucky has ever said. “I won't do that to you, Bucky. You deserve to be happy. You're good for each other. I'm not ruining that.”

“You deserve to be happy too,” Bucky insists. Steve ignores him, still staring at his lap. He reaches forward and cups Steve's chin, tilting his head to look at him. “You heard that, right?”

Steve nods. “If I did that, though… If I came between you and Tony, I couldn't live with myself. I wouldn't be happy… because you wouldn't be either,” he explains.

There is prolonged silence. Steve's eyes dart all around Bucky's face, but never land on his eyes. “Alright.... But what if I love you?” Bucky asks suddenly, gut twisting at the question, but it has to be asked. “How do you feel about that?”

  
Bucky… I know you love me,” Steve says gently. “I've known that since… since you dropped out of school to take care of me. Ma always said… you're my best friend, my bro--”

Bucky lets out a long, tired sigh. “Ain't that kinda love, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly. It silences the other man quickly. “Maybe it was… at first… When I didn't know what this kinda love felt like, but it ain't anymore. Hasn't been. I _love_ you, Steve. Like my ma loved my pa, you know? Like, I wanna stay with you forever.” Steve breathes in and leans forward ever so slightly, blue eyes staring straight into Bucky's. Somehow, it seems even more intimate than a kiss. “I tried to tell you before, but you got yourself stuck on this 'brother' bullshit, and I… if that's what you want, then fine. I can be that for you too, but you gotta know. We all almost died and I can't die knowing you thought I didn't love you like that.”

“Bucky...” Steve says just barely above his breath.

“So how do you feel about that?” Bucky continues while he still has the courage to.

“I love you too,” Steve says. It's the most honest Bucky has heard him sound since this whole thing started. “I have… loved you. I just didn't think you would...”

“We're a couple of idiots,” Bucky says, dipping his head.

“I know,” Steve says. “I'm glad that you feel the same way, Bucky, but we just can't...” He takes a breath. “Tony has been so good to us. We can't do that to him. You can't just leave him.”

“Why would I want to leave him!?” Bucky asks, sitting up quickly. Both Tony and Rhodey turn to look at them. Bucky makes a waving motion at Tony, and Tony closes the doors that separate the helm from the rest of the seating. Bucky loves him. “I don't want to leave Tony, Steve. I love Tony,” he says, quieter this time.

“But-- but you just said--” Steve stutters, obvious confusion overtaking the gentle sympathetic expression he had before.

“Oh god, I forgot how weird this is,” Bucky tells Steve honestly. “So… short version: If I love you and Tony, Tony loves me and you, and you love me and like Tony, then what does that make us?”

There is a long pause. “Complicated…?” Steve asks, like a student unsure of the answer to a particularly complicated math problem.

Bucky blinks and then snorts. “Yes, you punk. We are very complicated,” he agrees. “But… that's not exactly what I'm getting at.” He sits up a little more, watching Steve's face carefully. “You do realize people can love more than one person, right?  A relationship can have more than two people in it, right?”

“Like… Solomon?” Steve asks, clearly expressing how crazy he thinks Bucky is being.

“I mean...” Bucky trails off. “I wasn't really thinking to that scale, but...” He shakes his head. “That's not the point. If we all have feelings for each other, then this isn't… a love triangle, Steve. I don't have to leave Tony to be with you… you can just… be with us.” Steve stares at him, very still and very silent as what Bucky just said processes, or as he decides whether or not to chuck Bucky's heretical ass overboard. “Tony and I… we've been talking about this for a while. We just… we weren't sure how to go about offering it to you… or if you even liked us like that.”

“Are you proposing all three of us in a relationship?” Steve clarifies, his voice carefully neutral.

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts. “I mean… only if you want to.”

Steve's face adopts that frown again. “It would be… it would be weird, Bucky,” he admits, looking down.

Bucky deflates and leans back into the pillows again. “Okay… Like I said, it's just an option… This was a bad time to bring this up.”

“You didn't let me finish,” Steve says, looking up at Bucky again. “I've never… I've never even been in a relationship before, so it would be weird,” he clarifies. “But… I love you… and I really like Tony… I think I could really love him too, so...” he trails off and chews his lip while Bucky nearly dies in anticipation. “I want to try it,” he says finally. “It… it can't be like all those double dates you took me on. I can't just watch Tony have you. I want… I need to be a part of this. A full part of this.”

“Of course!” Bucky interjects, sitting up fully now. “Of course! That's all… That's all Tony and I want. We both want you to be a full part of it. It's not worth it otherwise.”

Steve nods, letting out a harsh breath. “I also… I need to talk to Tony about this.”

“Obviously,” Bucky says. “I already know what he's gonna say, but I knew you would want to.”

Steve merely nods again and looks down, almost curling into himself again. Bucky leverages himself up and drops to his knees in front of Steve. “Bucky, what are you-- Lay back down!” Bucky ignores him and pulls him in for a fierce hug, pressing Steve's head into his uninjured shoulder. Steve stiffens initially, but after a few minutes, melts into Bucky, letting out a wet breath. Bucky lowers a kiss onto the top of Steve's blond head.

“Come on, Stevie, watcha' crying for? Bucky asks softly, just holding Steve close.

Steve shakes his head against his shoulder. “I didn't think… When you started dating, I was so worried,” he admits. “I was worried we wouldn't be close anymore. I thought I didn't have a chance with either of you to begin with and then you two started dating and I knew there wasn't any way. He's so...”

“Amazing?” Tony fills in. In their over emotional conversation, it seems they didn't notice Tony opening the doors and coming out. He no longer has his suit, but a strange UI glows around his face. “Fantastic?”

“Annoying,” Bucky finishes for him. “Jeez, I just warmed him up to the idea and now you're going to ruin it.”

Tony's eyes widen. “I thought I heard something like that going on out here,” he says, settling down on the couch next to where the two of them are kneeling. “Come on, sit up here. That's what chairs are for.” They both comply easily, Steve still hesitant to let go of Bucky, so much so that he ends up holding his hand. “So what's the verdict? Are you leaving me for Captain America?” Tony asks, his tone is joking, but his gaze is rather guarded.

Steve catches on immediately. Bucky realizes that perhaps Steve is not as thick as he seems, but is just unrealistically good at hiding his feelings, a quality Bucky wasn't even aware he had. “Of course not!” he says. “Bucky loves you. We were just talking about… if you were still willing… A… a polyarmorous relationship. I want… I love Bucky. And I'm pretty sure I… like… you...” he trails off.

“Oh, I'm definitely still willing,” Tony says, warm and welcoming. “We'll work up to the scary L-word stuff later… It's no big deal. What matters is that you want to.”

Steve nods. “I want to try.”

Tony stands and sits next to Steve, slowly and gently pulling him away from Bucky. “Well then, this is how I asked Bucky out, so I figure it's only fair.” Steve only has a moment to look confused before Tony is kissing him. It isn't steamy by any means, but after a moment, Steve naturally tilts his head to accommodate Tony's lips against his. After a few seconds, he pulls away. “So, is that definitely a yes?”

“Yes,” Steve says, somewhat breathless. “Can I… with Bucky too?”

“If he wants to, it's fine with me.” Tony shrugs. “You're going to have to find some way to entertain yourselves while I get Rhodey's armor. You two have the worst timing, seriously.” He settles back on the seat, gaze focusing on whatever is going on in the UI. “You'll owe me for every kiss you give Bucky, just fyi. Gotta make sure it's fair.”

“I'm… I'm fine with that,” Steve says, more serious than the situation really warrants. Tony grins and Bucky suddenly finds himself tugged across Tony's lap, face cradled in Steve's hands. Steve leans down and presses his lips to Bucky's, just another dry press, but Bucky still sighs softly.

“Woah,” Bucky and Steve nearly fly apart to see Rhodey peeking at them from his space in the Captain's seat. “Look, I know this is a party boat, but could we please keep the orgies on hold until I'm off of it?”

“I don't know… I'm pretty into it,” Tony says from his seat, but it's obvious he hasn't been paying much attention, gaze still focused on whatever is happening on the interface.

“You're supposed to be working!” Rhodey shouts, affronted.

“And you're supposed to be driving the boat,” Tony shoots back. “Now shoo. You're just jealous you don't have two antique boyfriends.”

“That's because you've pretty much cornered the market on 1940's super soldiers,” Rhodey remarks flatly. “What's the rest of the world supposed to do?”

“They will just have to suffer,” Tony says with a small smirk.

Rhodey huffs in exasperation, but disappears to the front soon after to steer. “Keep it professional back there!” he calls.

Sadly, after Rhodey's interruption, Steve doesn't really kiss Bucky anymore. It seems being discovered dampened his courage slightly, but he readjusts, so that he can sit next to Bucky and still shyly holds Bucky's hand and the soft smile curving his lips lets Bucky know that he is happy.

Tony, for the most part, keeps smiling too, stealing glances at the two of them between whatever he is doing with the interface. It's hard to tell what is going on, but he flinches every so often, and sometimes frowns, so Bucky can only assume he is remotely piloting his suit. After around half an hour later, Tony curses and begins muttering to Jarvis more.

Both Bucky and Steve straighten, and Tony continues cursing. “Not only did he have to kidnap the president, he had to blow a huge hole in the goddamn plane!” he says, obviously purely for their benefit.

The following ten minutes is the most intense rescue mission that Bucky has never seen, the goings-on reflected only in the expressions on Tony's face and the words that he mutters quickly to whoever he is rescuing.

It works out just fine, however, because afterward. Tony cheers to himself, drawing Rhodey's attention. “Did you get him?!”

Tony looks over at him. “No, but I just saved thirteen people falling out of a plane.” He turns his gaze on Bucky and Steve, “Little victories, right?"

Bucky nods and grins. “Little victories.”

Then Tony flinches harshly, eyes scrunching shut. Both Bucky and Steve sit up in worry, but Tony eventually relaxes and lets out a breath. “That came out or nowhere.” They find out later that because Tony was so distracted, his suit is now in pieces on a major highway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	30. Battle Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late this time, but the chapter is very long, so hopefully you can forgive me! Thank you all for your support on the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one! Despite the title, this is NOT the last chapter, not by a long shot.
> 
> The chapter title is from Iron Man 3.
> 
> Warnings: Canon-typical violence, 
> 
> With all that cleared up, please enjoy!

Steve is all nerves by the time they get to the docks. He is happy that the odd tension between he, Tony and Bucky is relatively cleared up, but now Steve suddenly feels as if he is waking on eggshells. Tony keeps looking at him like he is the best thing he has ever seen and Bucky is hands-on and talkative with him in ways Steve hasn't experienced since the time Bucky came home drunk and lonely. It isn't so much their behavior that worries him, though. He is worried that he may mess up now, say something wrong, make Tony give up on him and Bucky leave him. Under that, there is the fear that he will be found lacking in the sexual department. He knows both Tony and Bucky have been very active there, and while Steve is aware he is attractive, he is virginal in more ways than one. Aside from a stray fantasy of making out with either Tony or Bucky, he hasn't given a thought to what he would actually do if he had both of them in bed. It is not an unappealing image by any means, but it is anxiety inducing.

On the other hand, there is also the very high possibility that one or all of them will get seriously hurt or killed in this final confrontation. Steve is thankful that they had enough downtime to treat everyone's wounds. Rhodey even managed to wrangle Tony aside and check him over for a a concussion with how many hits he has taken to the head. Steve also took time to tape the nasty cut on his nose closed, as it was still bleeding sluggishly onto his shirt. Despite being well-cared for, they are all still ill-prepared and ill-equipped and all of them are already tired and injured to some capacity. Tony no longer has his suit, their one advantage, and they are limited to a few handguns and ammo that Steve managed to scrounge up. Simply put, Steve doesn't like their chances.

Which is why he stops Bucky before he can even get off the boat. Out of all of them, Bucky is the most heavily injured, sporting a gunshot wound, a slowly healing head wound and an impressive array of assorted bruises and cuts. “You need to stay here, Bucky,” he says apologetically, gently gripping his right forearm.

“Like hell, Steve,” Bucky says, as Steve had expected. However, unlike all those times on the boat where he let Bucky do what he wanted, Steve is firm, grip like iron as he pulls him back gently. “Steve,” Bucky says with a warning glare.

“I can't let you go out there. You're hurt,” Steve says. Both Rhodey and Tony have stopped gearing up, and Tony walks over. “Ask Tony, he'll agree with me.”

Bucky looks between them, eyes hard. “No way! I don't care what either of you have to say about it. I'm coming. You'll kill yourselves out there all alone. Both of you have shit aim,” he asserts. “We're fighting with guns, guns are my specialty.”

Tony looks down and rubs the back of his head. “Bucky, you're hurt pretty bad,” he says, pointing to Bucky's bandaged shoulder, thick under his shirt.

“So are you,” Bucky shoots back. “You have a concussion, Tony. You think that ain't on par with missing a limb? At least I can still see straight.”

Both Tony and Steve are silent for a few moments. Then Steve speaks up. “We don't have time to argue about this, Bucky...” he says, projecting a commanding voice. It only seems to fuel Bucky's fire.

“Fine,” Bucky says, and Steve almost sighs in relief. “Then let's go. I'll stay back, it's what I do. But I am not sitting here and waiting for you guys to get back. You want equal parts in our relationship, Steve? Well, so do I. On and off the battlefield. It doesn't change,” he continues firmly. “You let me fight with you. You let me be your partner. I know what I can and can't do. You gotta trust me to know that.”

“Bucky...” Steve sighs, feeling a sudden rush of guilt.

“Okay,” Tony cuts in, elbowing Steve gently in the ribs. “But you do what you said. Find a perch and snipe… if you can with that handgun,” he says. “I know you want to help, and you won't take the whole 'you just being safe is helping,' schtick, but we don't want to lose you. You know that's why we don't want to let you go.”

“It's not always gonna be about what you want,” Bucky points out. “It's about what's smart. Killian won't expect me to be here, what with my arm, so I'm a trump card. Your secret sniper,” he explains.

Tony nods. “Okay,” he accepts easily. Steve hesitantly nods not long after.

Bucky pockets his gun and casts his eyes around their surroundings, looking for a good perch. “There's a ladder over there, so I won't be doing anything too risky. I'll have your backs,” he says, then jogs in the direction of the aforementioned ladder. It leads up to a small deck with controls for one of the large cranes. Moments later, as they are walking around a stacked set of crates, they see him scurrying across a catwalk, keeping low.

Steve, Tony and Rhodey take the ground route, ducking around piles of crates and stacked barrels of oil. Once they make it to the main awning, Rhodey ducks around to do recon, dodging the multitude of people bustling around the docks. Once he returns, he doesn't have good news. “They've got him strung up on the oil tank. They're gonna light him up.”

“For the Mandarin,” Tony surmises. “A public execution.”

“Yeah, death by big oil,” Rhodey agrees as they all puzzle out Killian's idea of poetic irony. It's hardly subtle.

Steve frowns determinedly as they continue on. “He should be our priority. We can't let them have their show,” he says. They change locations several times, attempting to dodge discovery.

“I wish we had coms,” Steve comments in a still moment. “Would be nice to hear about what Bucky's seeing.” He takes a moment to scan the tops of the surrounding crates and storage containers, but not catching sight of his sergeant anywhere.

“Next time,” Tony promises, pressing himself next to Rhodey behind a shelving unit. “Maybe I can make sub-dermal implants… we'd never be out of contact.”

“Yeah, because everyone wants to hear your voice all the time.” Rhodey rolls his eyes. “You'd never stop talking.”

“Steve likes listening to me talk!” Tony argues. Though Steve knows his face doesn't exactly show agreement when the two men look over to him. “I'll put a mute function in it. It's a good idea.”

Either Tony's arguments, or their unguarded walking must garner attention because they all must duck out of the way of machine gun fire. If Steve could not already tell that Tony is on edge, he certainly can now. Tony reacts with a truly crazy spray of fire in the direction of the gunman while Rhodey tries to cover them and Steve does his best to look for shelter. Tony's aim is very off, gun shaking in his hands, so not much is accomplished despite him expending an entire clip of ammo. Steve drags them all behind a containment unit, pulling Tony, still shooting, down to a crouch next to him. Rhodey follows closely.

Tony immediately starts fiddling with his gun. “I'm out. Do either of you have anymore?”

“Tony, they're not interchangeable,” Rhodey says, reloading his own gun.

“I know what I'm doing. I make this stuff,” Tony argues back. “Give me another one.”

“I don't have one for that gun,” Rhodey reiterates.

“You've got, like, five of them!” Tony says, growing exasperated.

Steve just sighs and tosses Tony one of his own cartridges. He is unsure if it will fit the gun, but if it will make Tony feel better and hopefully stop panicking, then he is willing to give it up. Tony looks at him thankfully, and fiddles around with it for a while. Steve can't tell if he gives up or figures it out because Tony starts rambling again.

“See, here's what we're gonna do… I'm gonna spot,” he says, then before either Rhodey or Steve can stop him, he is shooting up to look. A half second later, he crouches back down.

“What'd you see?” Rhodey prompts.

Tony just shakes his head. “Nothing… too fast.” Rhodey sighs, but Tony makes another attempt at playing look out. When he crouches back down, his face has paled a few shades. “Three guys, one girl, all armed,” he reports once he is safely behind their shelter. Steve can hear heavy boots clunking across the metal surface of the crates, confirming Tony's assessment.

All three of them lean up to meet their attackers, pointing guns in all directions, only to find that they are far more surrounded than originally thought. One guard, stationed up a level above them takes aim at them, but the gun is soon shot clean out of their hands, followed by a chest shot that knocks them backward. “That's Bucky,” Steve mutters, trying not to cast his eyes around to look for him. The surrounding people are doing a good job of it for him as bullets clang against the metal at their feet. It seems like Bucky is moving as he shoots, because every shot comes from a different direction.

“I would kill for some armor right now...” Rhodey spits, keeping his gun up. “Bucky can't keep them busy forever.”

“You're right...” Tony mutters. “We need backup.” He pauses, looking up at the sky “You know what?” He nods and Steve follows his gaze to see a small batch of lights in the sky quickly growing larger.

“Are those…?” Rhodey asks, clearly impressed.

“Yup,” Tony says, sounding more like himself. “Merry Christmas, buddy.” At his words, around seven armors fly in and surround the area around them. Some of them are clearly older models, but Steve wonders when Tony made the burly looking model, or the completely silver one. “Jarvis,” Tony begins. “Target extremis heat signatures, disable with extreme prejudice.”

The suits all come to attention at the same time. “Yes Sir,” Jarvis's smooth voice broadcasts through all the suits.

“You have a com?!” Steve asks, shocked.

“I only had one!” Tony is quick to defend, but he visibly relaxes when Steve smiles at him fondly. He turns his attention away from Steve then. “What are you waiting for? It's Christmas, take 'em to church,” he commands, doing a complicated gesture with his hands.

The suits do as instructed, zipping around and firing at the extremis soldiers. The soldiers do their best to combat the suits, but despite outnumbering them, they go down quickly. One particular suit takes a lot of damage and falls, taking a few soldier with it. The resulting explosion destabilizes where Tony, Steve and Rhodey are standing and they all lurch backwards before the broader suit comes running and provides balance for the structure again.

“How did you have time to make all these?” Steve asks over shouting and the sound of repulsor blasts. He can hear the occasional ping of a bullet or the sound of someone falling to something other than a repulsor blast, so he knows that Bucky is still fighting above their heads.

“Easy. It's what I do,” Tony says with a shrug. “'Didn't get to make as many as I was planning with you two keeping me busy, but I managed to get a little something done.”

“A little--” Steve jerks as a suit flies between him and Tony, carrying two extremis soldiers by their necks and chucking them into the ocean. “This is amazing, Tony!”

Tony grins before turning his attention to the battle surrounding them. He plays a good commander, instructing the suits to help each other out and they comply with ease, though most of the time the results of this teamwork are violent explosions. Steve is about to run and cover Tony when one goes off rather close to them, when something hard and metal drops face down in front of him with a resounding clang, his shield. The paint is a little chipped, but it doesn't stop Steve from picking it up. The suit that dropped it for him lands next to Tony and opens up to welcome him, revealing no one inside.

“These are all controlled by Jarvis?!” Steve asks, amazed.

Tony smirks at him. “Did you think I had that many friends?” he shoots back, tilting his head at Steve. “Thanks to you two losers, I'm a shut in."

Once the armor folds around Tony, Rhodey prepares to suit up, stowing his gun away. “Oh yeah, this is awesome. Give me a suit, okay?” he requests, throwing his arms wide like Tony had done.

“Oh… oh I'm sorry, they're only coded to me,” Tony says, though he doesn't sound very apologetic.

“What does that mean?”

“I got you covered,” Tony says. He turns to Steve. “Go find Bucky, I'll get Pepper." Steve nods. Before Rhodey can argue with Tony further, his face plate closes and he is rocketing away.

Steve turns to Rhodey. “Do you… Do you need me to stay here?” he asks. He knows Rhodey is War Machine, and he has borne witness to some of his abilities, but he has no idea to what extent Rhodey's skills extend.

Rhodey rolls his eyes as a suit lands. approaching them. “Good evening, Colonel, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis greets them with a nod. “Can I give you a lift?” he asks kindly. Steve puts his hand up to decline it, but Rhodey comes forward into the suit's embrace.

“Yeah… this is real funny,” he mutters when he catches Steve smiling slightly.

“I didn't say anything,” Steve says.

“Yeah, but you were thinking it,” Rhodey insists, and then he and the suit are off.

Bucky knows he shouldn't be, but he is exhilarated by the goings on around him, surrounded by the sounds of Tony's suits kicking ass and kicking some of his own. He has knocked at least three of the soldiers from high places that he can count and taken out several more by cooperating with the suits. They are surprisingly good at teamwork, despite none of them being in any actual contact with him. He skillfully maneuvers around the grating and catwalks that make up the uppermost levels of the docking area, dodging shots from soldiers and using the suits as distractions to make well-placed shots. One soldier, locked in combat with a completely silver Iron Man suit goes flying off the edge when Bucky delivers a powerful kick to his abdomen. He shoots another off the back of one of the suits flying past.

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis says as it loops by him again and fires a few more blasts off at some of the soldiers pursuing him.

“No problem, Jarvis,” Bucky calls. “And call me Bucky!”

“Bucky!” he hears, but it's not the suit. He turns to see Steve about a level below him, waving his shield.

“Yell my name louder, Steve!” Bucky shouts back. “I don't think they know where I am yet.”

Steve looks appropriately scolded, but it doesn't stop him for long. He charges one of the soldiers trying to get the drop on him from behind the railing using his shield. The soldier manages to hang on, but one of the suits is quick to intervene, ramming them and causing them to lose their grip, falling the rest of the way.

“You want me to come to you?” Bucky yells, ducking as a suit buzzes over his head. “I don't know if the ladder I used to get up here actually exits anymore...”

“Then I'll come to you,” Steve shouts back. He turns underneath the level Bucky is standing on, and Bucky can see him searching for a way up through the grating at his feet. Behind himself, Bucky hears the sound of heavy boots and turns just in time to dodge a huge hunk of metal thrown at him by an equally large, glowing orange man. The man charges him once he realizes he has missed, yelling loudly.

“Hey ugly,” Bucky greets, bringing his gun up and firing at the man, hitting him twice in the chest. The man falters slightly, but keeps going, and Bucky quickly dodges him like a bull fighter. The soldier skids to a stop, nearly toppling off the edge like Bucky was hoping for and rounds, like he intends to charge him again. “That's not the best strategy, pal.”  
  
The solider takes his advice, yelling inarticulately and then bringing his fists down onto the catwalk like a rampaging gorilla. It has the intended effect, causing the metal grating to buckle and the structure to rumble and tilt forward under Bucky's feet. It sends them both sliding backwards. Bucky drops his gun and manages to catch hold of the remaining pieces of the catwalk. The other man is not so lucky, he falls, crashing into the sea of fire raging below them. Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief. He isn't safe yet, however, as the catwalk above him groans and cracks ominously.

“Bucky!” Steve shouts from the lower level. “I'm coming!” He starts sprinting towards where Bucky is dangling.

“No! Get out from under it, you idiot!” Bucky shouts as the remaining pieces of the upper level slowly break, debris falling around, but thankfully not on, Steve. “I can handle this.” Steve doesn't get a chance to argue as another extremis jarhead tackles him across the lower level.

“Thank you,” Bucky sighs. He experimentally swings his legs and casts a glance out around him. His legs hit a bar belonging to a hanging lamp on the level below, just barely within reach. He stretches as far as he can and manages to get an ankle hooked around it. Taking a deep breath, he lets go of the catwalk above him, swinging backwards and catching himself on the bar, hanging upside down by his legs, boots pressed firmly into his ass to keep himself from sliding off the slick surface. The catwalk above him crumbles, the piece he was hanging onto falling and crashing onto the sturdier lower level.

The lamp is still a sizable distance from the ground, not a safe landing even if Bucky weren't about to fall on his head. The bar is also too steep to slide down to the ground, starting out horizontal, but quickly angling vertically. It might be doable if he had an extra arm, but as it is, it's impossible. Bucky blows air out of his lips and looks around himself, catching sight of Steve shielding himself as the extremis soldier wails on him. Worry churning in his gut, Bucky's eyes finally land on one of the Iron Man armors heading straight towards the two. It is going at too great a speed to really be headed to rescue him, but he can still take advantage of it. Readying himself, he loosens his legs' grip on the bar and throwing his arms out, drops right as the suit passes under him. He lands on it with a heavy thump, and the armor dips low due to his unexpected weight. Bucky uses that opportunity to roll off of it. He hits the ground feet first, bending his knees and rolling forward with his own momentum. In the end, he loses his balance and falls to the left, but is otherwise unharmed by the ordeal.

Winded, Bucky watches as the Iron Man armor curves midair to come check on him. Before it can make it over, Bucky stands, eyes going to where Steve is desperately trying to fend off the solider that has him firmly on his knees. The extremis dickbag was only able to get Steve down because he was so worried about Bucky, and Bucky grinds his teeth, sprinting for the man. “Get away from him!” he shouts, but the suit of armor beats him to it, tackling the extremis soldier away and carrying him off the dock. Bucky skids to a stop right in front of Steve's crouched form. Steve immediately stands and almost knocks Bucky in the chin with his shield.

“You're alright!” Steve shouts, like Bucky needs reminding. He moves to fold Bucky into a hug, but then the remaining catwalk Bucky was just hanging from decides to finally come crashing down. Steve throws his shield in front of Bucky instead, turning the affectionate gesture into a protective one. Together they sprint the remaining few feet to the railing encircling the level they are on. They slide out from under it and drop onto a stack of metal storage units, feet denting the top with the impact of their fall as dust, debris and fire cover the area where they were standing just moments ago. Steve breaths out, pulling Bucky into his side.

“That was close,” Steve says quietly, watching the area burn. He turns to Bucky and begins patting him down for injuries. “My god, I just left you hanging there! You could have died! I didn't catch-- I didn't catch you!” Steve begins frantically muttering, hands moving restlessly over Bucky's body.

“Hey!” Bucky catches Steve's wrist and presses it to his chest firmly, stilling the blonde. “Look at me.” Steve's eyes eventually make their way up to his. “None of that. I was fine. I'm fine now.”

“Your shoulder--” Steve cuts in. The hand Bucky is restraining fights against his hold and Bucky's grip slides to his fingers, lacing and holding tightly.

“Is fine,” Bucky says. “Now, are you okay?” he asks, looking over Steve. “Looked like that guy was doing a number on you.”

“I'm fine,” Steve says, echoing Bucky's earlier statement. Suddenly, he stiffens and brings the shield up to block a spray of bullets from one of the soldiers that has discovered them.

“No respect,” Bucky mutters. "We were having a moment..." He waits for the tell-tale sound of reloading and slips the shield off of Steve's arm, throwing it straight into the soldier. It knocks the gun out of his hand and the soldier over, but it does not come ricocheting back, so Steve jumps down after it, quickly dispatching the soldier. Bucky follows him soon after.

The suit Bucky used as a trampoline lands next to them. “Next time you are in need of a rescue, Sergeant Barnes, please feel free to say so,” Jarvis says through the speakers, sounding somewhat flustered.

“I didn't need a rescue, I needed a lift,” Bucky insists. “Didn't I tell you to call me Bucky?”

“Please, _Bucky_ , afford me some leniency. It has been a trying few days,” Jarvis replies, the suit's head nodding forward slightly.

“Join the club,” Bucky breaths. “You got a location on Tony?” he asks, moving on to the more important subject of where his boyfriend has gone.

“Last contact I had from him, he was engaging Killian,” Jarvis reports. “He is out of the suit at the moment.” The suit tilts its head upward to some of the catwalks that have not been completely destroyed. In the distance a small figure runs among them, chasing after a crane carrying debris.

“Get us up there,” Steve instructs, sliding his shield as far up his arm as it will go and wrapping that arm around Bucky's waist. The other he wraps around the suit's shoulders, stepping on one metal boot almost naturally. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve and presses his stump into the suit's side, feeling unsteady as they take off. The only thing keeping him from freaking out is the knowledge that Steve won't drop him.

As they are on their way up, a figure drops from the debris Tony was chasing and Bucky curses as his eyes make out who it is. “Holy shit! Is that Pepper?” he yells. “Jarvis!” he pushes against Steve and the metal chest of the suit. “Drop us, get her. Get Pepper!”

“She is falling too fast,” Jarvis reports, something like panic lacing his voice. “And if I were to drop you from this height, you would surely die.” Still the suit tilts into a nose dive towards the falling figure, and Bucky lets go of Steve to lean forward and grab Pepper. He eyes water at the wind and hot smoke buffeting his face, but he can still make out Pepper's falling form against the flames that are quickly rising up to meet them. She catches sight of them and throws out a hand, reaching for Bucky's. Their fingers brush once, twice, the heat almost unbearable with how close they are. Then the suit jerks suddenly, and her hand falls away from his. He nearly falls out of Steve's grasp as the suit pulls out of the dive.

“Jarvis! No!” Bucky screams, arm still outstretched. He can feel Steve's arm straining around his waist, trying to keep him from slipping. “Jarvis! Go back!”

“I'm sorry, Sergeant,” Jarvis says mournfully. “If we were to continue on that path, no one would have the survived the resulting crash.”

“Goddamnit!” Bucky leans up and hits the suit chest hard, pain lancing through his balled fist. He knows Jarvis is just a machine, forced to consider logic and statistics in a situation, but he also can still feel the ghost of Pepper's fingers brushing his and he will never forget the look of fear on her face. “She's dead,” he whispers, staring at the flames shrinking away from them again. “I almost had her.”

“It's not your fault,” Steve says lowly. Bucky refuses to tear his eyes away from the flames, but Steve still tightens his grip on his waist. “It's not your fault, Bucky, I'm sorry.”

The suit suddenly stops and drops them atop of a metal shipping container. “Sir requires my assistance,” he says, before rocketing off in the direction of where Tony is locked in combat with another figure, more than likely Killian.

“He'd better kill him!” Bucky spits as Steve sits up behind him. Tony looks very much like he is locked in a losing battle, Killian mowing through suit after suit. There are very few left still fighting on the dock, so the need for the suit transporting them is clear.

“We can't stay here,” Steve says. “We have to help him.” Bucky nods in agreement, accepting Steve's helping hand to get to his feet and together, they run towards the closest ladder. The waste no time climbing. Steve is ahead of Bucky by a few rungs, climbing up as quickly as he can, but making altogether too slow progress due to the shaking of the structure, when something above them explodes, sending the whole structure tilting to the side. Steve curses and jumps down, landing hard on the ground and catches Bucky when he follows suit. Flames and rubble begin to fall around them as the structure's supports buckle with a loud, long groan.

“Run! Run!” Bucky shouts once he is let down from Steve's arms. He has seen quite a few structures topple in his day, and he can tell that this thing is coming down and fast. “Go!” he pushes Steve ahead of them as they both run for a clearing, fire practically raining down on them. They hit the clearing and skid to a stop on the oil slick ground as something falls in front of them, blocking their way. They both tense, ready for a fight, but as their vision adjusts to the harsh backdrop of flames and the thing settles on the ground, they can tell the object in question is an extremely piecemeal Iron Man suit that still has Tony inside of it. They both shout his name and run for him.

Tony seems to just breathe and gather his bearings as they run towards him, glad to be safe, but then Killian emerges from the flames, badly charred and limping. His black skin flakes away in the wind and he yells threats at Tony.  He eventually towers over Tony and Steve readies his shield when something else emerges from the flames and smacks Killian away like a fly.

“Pepper!” Bucky shouts in disbelief, watching as the woman in question brandishes some kind of thick piping and stands over Tony. She is glowing like Killian was, orange just under her skin, illuminating her bones, and it shows in her eyes. Steve and Bucky stumble forward the remaining few feet to Tony's side.

They come up behind Tony just in time for Tony to mutter, “I got nothing.”

Not soon after, one remaining suit comes careening around the corner, clearly aiming for Pepper. Tony catches sight of it soon after Bucky does and panics. Meanwhile, Killian rises from the literal ashes he was being reduced to, intent on complicating matters. Steve raises his shield, either to knock the suit away or aim it at Killian.

“Jarvis, subject on my twelve o'clock is not a target, disengage!” Tony shouts, but when he presses his fingers to his ear, he gets a look on his face that clearly communicates the com device is no longer there.

Pepper moves with fluid efficiency, dodging the initial repulsor blast from the suit and then turning on Tony. She glares at him and Steve moves forward as Tony sputters a worried string of words. She runs at him, but instead of attacking, she jumps, springs herself off Tony's knee and shoves her fist through the arc reactor of the suit. She throws it to the ground as she lands, shoves her hand into the suit's gauntlet just in time to turn her attention on the quickly approaching Killian and hit him with It. The man goes flying, crashing into one of the few remaining structures on the docks. She then kicks something on the ground towards him, aims her stolen gauntlet and fires, causing a truly epic explosion.

The silence between them afterward is deafening, filled only with everyone's collective panting and the crackling of the flames. “Pepper…?” Tony calls after a few prolonged moment. She turns towards him, eyes no longer glowing orange, fear and shock clear on her face.

“Oh my god… that was… that was really violent,” she says.

“You just scared the devil out of me,” Tony agrees. “I thought you were...”

“Dead,” Pepper fills in. “Why? Because I fell two hundred feet?”

Tony just shrugs helplessly.

“Can she be on the Avengers?” Bucky asks, settling onto the pavement next to Tony out of exhaustion. “She should really be on the Avengers… Haven't seen anyone kick that much ass since Carter stormed that base with us. We've been playing cat and mouse with that guy for three days and she just blows him up.”

“Never,” Pepper says firmly and Tony chuckles, standing up. He limps badly, and Steve is quick to rush forward and help him, but Bucky just lets himself sprawl onto the ground. It is oily and dirty, but Bucky is tired and showers exist.

“I'm just glad you're alive,” Steve says, though it is unclear who he is exactly saying it to, perhaps all of them.

“See, Pep? You got fans.” Tony comes forward and opens his arms to Pepper. “Here, come here,” he says, voice gentle.

“No wait--” Pepper backs away from him. “Don't touch me! I'm gonna burn you!”

Tony closes his hands around Pepper's shoulders. “Look, see? Not hot.”

Pepper's face crumples and she hunches forward. “Am I… am I gonna be okay?” Pepper asks, voice desperate, eyes scrunching like she is going to cry.

“Yup, yes,” Tony promises. “Yes, I… I think I can help you out. I almost had this figured out ten years ago when I was drunk, I think I can figure this out now.”

He casts a look around himself, taking in the destruction around them and the two men at his back. “Looks like I've got my hands full for the next few weeks,” he mutters. He turns back to Pepper. “This comes first, though, of course.”

Pepper nods thankfully and gently pushes Tony away. “Let's… let's go,” she says, it comes out as more of a question. Tony nods and sighs, stuffing his com back in his ear.

“Jarvis, we got any suits left?” Tony asks, limping towards Bucky with Steve's help. He frowns at whatever comes in on the other line. “Damn, well, add that to my list too… below Bucky's new arm, above the phone upgrade.”

“Tony, I think your suit is more important than my arm,” Bucky points out from his place on the ground. Steve shifts Tony to the side and leans forward proffering a hand.

“It really isn't,” Tony says simply. “Gotta make sure my team is as well outfitted as myself. Besides, if anything happens, I know you'll have my back,” he says and Bucky fills with warmth, allowing Steve to help him up. “Besides, it's Christmas, and giving you a prototype as a gift is a shitty move, don't you agree?”

“Steve and I don't even have anything for you,” Bucky says flatly.

Tony shrugs. “Eh… I've always been more of a giver.” Behind him, Pepper snorts. “I am! I'll also always take gifts in the form of carnal act...” That earns him an elbow to the ribs from Bucky. “What? I'm serious! And you don't know what I mean by carnal acts. Maybe I was just talking about kissing?”

“You were not talking about kissing,” Bucky says, though his smile doesn't leave his face. “Not that I'm unwilling, but you haven't even asked Steve what he wants for Christmas.”

Steve looks somewhat shocked when their attentions turn on him, his ears turning pink. “I already got what I wanted,” he says, looking away from them.

“Aw… isn't that sweet?” Tony croons obnoxiously.

Steve looks over at them, then. “Well, I don't know about that… I just really wanted the Mandarin gone. He was starting to blow up the places that were on my list to visit, so thanks, Tony,” he says in complete deadpan, much to Tony's shock. Bucky bursts out laughing.

There is a honk that cuts them off, and they look over to the water to see their borrowed speedboat heading towards them.

“Need a ride?” Rhodey calls, coming to a stop in front of them. “The feds and the media are on their way to tear this place apart. You might want to make yourself scarce,” he says, eyes landing on Bucky. “Unless this is how you want to big reveal to pan out.”

“Not sure if we have much of a choice on how that's going to work,” Bucky comments, but Tony's eyes light up like he has a plan.

“Go, Bucky, we'll wrap up here,” Tony says. “Rhodey, get your ass over here. You're crazy if you think I'm gonna take all the credit for blowing this place up.”

Bucky and Rhodey switch places, Bucky stumbling slightly on the boat. “Can you drive it?” Rhodey asks, concern clear in his voice. Bucky shrugs.

“It can't be too hard. Besides, there's not much to crash into out here. I'll figure it out,” Bucky reasons. Rhodey looks startled, but doesn't press. Bucky leans over the edge of the boat and beckons Tony and Steve to him. “I love you both,” he says sincerely, then delivers a kiss to each of their lips. “Be safe.”

Both Tony and Steve return the sentiment while Rhodey makes gagging noises in the background and Pepper slaps her hands to her mouth, apparently absolutely delighted if her smile is anything to go by. “This ain't a show,” he yells over at them.

“Hey, I was nice about it earlier. Now I'm tired and beat to hell and you all are weird,” Rhodey says. He slaps Tony on the shoulder. “Man, I don't get it, but knock yourself out. They're both hot guys, I guess.”

Before Bucky can roll his eyes and go learn how to drive a boat, Tony stops him. “Wait.” He grabs Bucky's arm and leans up, stuffing the com in his ear. “So we can keep in touch,” he explains.

Bucky wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out at him. “I'd better not get a disease from this, Tony.” Steve laughs lightly and it brings a grin to Tony's face.

“If my awesome is a disease, then I guess you're in trouble,” Tony says, slapping Bucky's good shoulder. “Just take it. If you crash, you're gonna need something to call us with.”

“I'll see you soon,” Steve promises. “Please don't crash.”

“Aw… always ruining my fun, Steve,” Bucky laments before disappearing into the area sheltering the wheel. It takes him a moment to figure out how to make it go, but soon Bucky is moving away from the dock, watching his boyfriends and his new found friends try to act like they hadn't just seen him off. The boat has good navigation, and Bucky knows how to work that at least, so he focuses on getting to shore as quickly as possible, heedless of the damage the boat might take.

By the time the feds, as Rhodey called them, arrive, Bucky is long gone from the docks and hopefully already heading to shore. Tony hopes that Bucky is wise enough to try and find a location to dock that isn't right next to where they just battled. As he can see, in the distance, specialty units from the U.S. Department of Defense, as well as what looks like the FBI and CIA. They will be looking for anything suspicious.  Before they can get too close, Tony steals Rhodey's phone to text Sam and tell him to get his ass to Florida as quickly as possible, routing it through his secure server, before cannibalizing a com from one of the still-intact helmets of his suits, so he can be in contact with Bucky and tell him where to go.

In addition to every entity involved in state and national security arriving at the docks, Shield also arrives, which throws Tony for quite the loop. He hadn't been expecting Shield to get their hands mixed up in this, especially with Natasha's earlier actions. Even more surprising is the fact that both he and Steve get confronted by Fury and Black Widow herself. Either they don't know that both Steve and Tony know of their actions, or they have balls, Tony isn't quite sure which. Regardless, Steve keeps a surprisingly straight face, and Natasha does the same.

“I hear that Bucky Barnes is awake and was in your Malibu Mansion,” Fury says before Tony can even fire his customary niceties at him. “Black Widow encountered him on the road. She claims he put up quite the fight… and even was in possession of one of your gauntlets.”

Tony takes a deep breath, then lets it out as a sigh. “It's true,” he says, looking at Fury seriously. “We moved Bucky from New York when I needed to relocate here for work reasons, so Steve could still keep an eye on him. He woke up shortly before the Mandarin attack, but... we lost him in the collapse. I'm glad to hear he got away. Looks like he's got a knack for living through unlikely situations.”

“And why weren't we alerted to this fact?” Fury asks, ignoring Tony's extra commentary. “Why did Captain Rogers relocate with you? And why weren't we alerted to this immediately?” He turns his stern gaze on Steve.

Steve looks up from where he had been staring at his feet. “Because Tony and I… we started a relationship in New York,” he says, flushing crimson at Fury's surprised look and Natasha's knowing smirk. “I… I didn't know how Shield would… take this, so I didn't… I didn't say anything. I'm sorry. I will submit to any disciplinary action… Just know that this was not Tony's idea, so you should leave him out of it.”

“Shield doesn't care about your personal relationships, Rogers,” Fury says, though his voice is slightly warmer, almost comforting. It seems he has bought the lie. “All location changes should be made known to me ASAP, regardless of your reasons,” he continues to say. Then he comes forward, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, making him look up again. “You're new to this century, so I'll cut you some slack, if only because Coulson would've wanted me to.” He dips his head before he fixes Steve with a stern glare. “But this can't happen again. You are an official agent of Shield, and your actions could easily be taken as desertion. I don't need to tell you what the penalty for this is, do I?”

“No Sir,” Steve says firmly.

“Well, now that that shit's cleared up, we have bigger problems,” Fury says. “Black Widow did not apprehend Bucky Barnes. He was in possession of some kind of weapon, and from the sound of it, you don't know where he is either.” Both Steve and Tony shake their heads, Steve does a good job of playing the worried best friend. He furrows his brows and chews his lip. “According to Black Widow, he's erratic--”

“Believe me, I know,” Tony interrupts. He places a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder, feeling the muscles jump underneath his sleeve at the implication Fury is making. “He stole Pepper's car after the attack. Apparently he accosted her for the keys. He didn't hurt her, but he was scared. Honestly, what do you expect?”

“And the weapon he had?” Natasha interrupts him to ask, speaking up for the first time. “It looked like one of yours.”

“It's a prototype I made for Pepper,” Tony explains. “She doesn't like the idea, but she needs something to protect herself if she's going to be my CEO. It was purely experimental, though, probably only really worked like a glorified club.”

“How'd he know where to find it?” Natasha asks, openly searching his eyes.

“Hell if I know,” Tony shrugs. “Is that the problem here? How he knew to look for a weapon in the trunk of a car? He was probably looking for a tire iron.”

“That may be the case,” Fury says, cutting off whatever Natasha's reply might be. “But the fact still remains, we have a 1940's soldier who doesn't know the war has ended, on his own and armed with Stark tech. It wouldn't happen to have a tracker of some kind in it, would it?”

“Nope,” Tony says simply. “I'm not into that whole Big Brother bullshit, unlike you. There's no reason for me to track Pepper.”

Fury runs a hand down his face, frustration clear. “This is a mess,” he sighs. “We need to find him. Until now, I've only had Black Widow on the job due to the whole Mandarin clusterfuck, but even with her skills, nothing's come up. I'm sending a team of agents out on the ground to find him, I expect your help, Rogers.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don't think adding extra agents to this situation will help,” Steve speaks up.

“How so?” Fury asks, clearly annoyed.

“He apparently resisted Natasha and managed to escape. He's dangerous,” Steve begins. Tony hates that they have to paint Bucky like an unstable maniac, but it's the only way they will get Shield off their backs. “He's never been one to resist a pretty dame sweet talking him. He clearly doesn't trust anyone he doesn't know,” he continues. “What I'm saying is, he'll resist your agents.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Fury prompts. He is obviously frustrated by the proceedings, but the fact that he is listening to Steve is proof that he trusts them.

“Let me look for him with Tony's help,” Steve says. “I don't want him getting hurt, or anyone else getting hurt because he's scared. He knows me, he'll trust me. Hell, he's probably looking for me right now,” he reasons. “We'll let you know once we find him.”

“Fine,” Fury allows. “But I want you to coordinate with Natasha in your efforts.”

“Why?” Tony asks. Natasha glares at him, but Tony ignores it. “She's already proven that she can't nab him, and it's not like she'll provide any input that Steve can't get from me.”

“I'm a spy, Tony,” Natasha says with forced calm. “Finding people is one of my many specialties.”

“Maybe, but like I said, you can't catch them,” Tony says with a smirk. “How hard is it gonna be to find a man that thinks security cameras are a new technology? I have complete access to the grid, we'll have him on video surveillance in a matter of minutes, we drop Steve in and he talks our wayward soldier into not running away. Hardly something we need a super spy for.”

“You're not gonna let up on this,” Fury states. "It's no Natasha or nothing, right?"

“To be fair, we don't have the best history,” Tony says, nodding toward Natasha. “I'll help my boyfriend, but I'm not helping her.”

“Fine,” Fury agrees. Natasha doesn't let any outward emotion show on her face, but Tony can see her fingers twitch in annoyance where they grip her elbow.

“Oh, and by the way, I'll be calling your personal number later,” Tony adds, turning his gaze back towards Fury. “We don't talk enough, honey, and there's something I gotta tell you.”

Fury rolls his eyes, but nods, and then turns to address the rest of the agents with him, getting them in on helping clean up the giant burning mess that is now the docks. Natasha stays behind.

“If you need my help, you know where to find me,” she says kindly, coming closer to Steve and uncrossing her arms. She looks up at Steve and smiles softly. “Congratulations on your new boyfriend, Steve. Hopefully you can handle him better than I could.”

“Considering I'm not lying to him and spying on him for Shield, I probably can,” Steve replies sweetly, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist and pressing him into his side. “Trust is an important part of any relationship.”

“Not all the time,” Natasha comments, but gets the hint and leaves to follow after Fury. “Good luck finding Bucky,” she calls back before disappearing into the mess of agents working away at the docks.

A few hours later, when Steve and Tony are squirreled away in a private Stark Industries van with Pepper, the com in Tony's ear buzzes to life and Bucky speaks quietly on the other end. “I'm at the shore, what do I do now? I found some money on the boat, but I don't think it's gonna buy me a way out of here...”

“Jarvis,” Tony starts, and a click sounds, alerting them to the fact that Jarvis has joined in on the conversation. “Find the nearest four star hotel and reserve Bucky a room,” he instructs. “Single room, business trip set up, you know the drill,” he finishes.

“Yes sir,” Jarcis says attentively.

“Four stars? You getting cheap on me, Tony?” Bucky says, though it's clear he is joking.

“Five stars might be a little too high profile,” Tony says flippantly. “Sorry, babe, I'm sure you'll live.”

“Jarvis, once you're done with that, I want you to reserve two suites at the five star nearest our location. This one you can put under my name,” Tony continues. “Bucky, I want you to use that boat money to buy yourself some new clothes, hopefully some kind of business suit if you can find it. Try to stay out of sight of security cameras, Jarvis will point them out to you when he finds them near your location. If you can't stay out of sight, keep your face turned away. I'll have Jarvis looking for you and removing any shots with you in them, but you never know what might slip past him with he past couple days he's had.”

“How unkind, Sir,” Jarvis comments and Tony chuckles.

“After that, head to your hotel and wait for us to figure stuff out. Take a shower, catch up on some sleep, eat a little bit. It'll all be on me, of course,” Tony says. “Shield knows you're awake and is looking for you, and probably keeping close eyes on me and Steve, so we have to play this carefully. They think you've gone rogue and that works for us, so we're gonna keep it that way for now.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “New clothes and then me time, I can do that.”

“I know you can. Steve says hi, and I love you, and a bunch of other dramatic things, so you know he's thinking about you,” Tony adds with a small smirk in Steve's direction. Steve rolls his eyes, but does look rather thankful. “Be safe. Use all those sniper skills you keep bragging to me about,” he says. On the other end, Bucky snorts and then ends the transmission.

“He'll be okay,” Steve says firmly. It doesn't sound like he is trying to convince himself anymore, just saying so.

“Yup. So will we. We'll figure everything out,” Tony agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	31. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get back to their hotels, injuries and feelings are addressed. General fluff ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter is late. I'm sorry! I've been busy preparing for school and transitioning to a new, hopefully less stressful, job. On that note, school is starting up, which means lots of time for writing, but little time for actually updating. As I've been doing over the summer, I will try to update every week or so regardless, just be aware there may be a slow down. 
> 
> Also, announcement: To possibly help speed up updates, I might consider a beta reader for the school year to help with the editing process and to help me avoid large plot holes. I've been noticing a lot of tiny mistakes I've been making and missing because I have to write and edit so quickly. I'm just not sure how to go about this, and I'm also not the most social of butterflies (it's very easy to scream into the void, but very hard for me to interact when the void talks back). I guess, let me know if you're interested via here or Tumblr? And I'll post something on Tumblr? I'll post some general stuff soon if you're interested.
> 
> Chapter title from the Captain America: Civil War soundtrack
> 
> Warnings: Boundaries are discussed regarding dirty talk.
> 
> Well, I hope you like this fluff chapter before we start delving into the nitty gritty again. Enjoy!

The private suite is a welcome respite, as is Tony surrendering the com to Steve, so he can speak with Bucky. It is comforting to hear Bucky's voice after having to distance himself so much, even if it's just a lie.

“Tony told me Shield talked to you. How did that go?” Bucky asks first. There is rustling on the other end, and the sound of music commonly played in department stores. In Steve's own room, the shower runs.

“Shield thinks I'm in the closet,” Steve begins. Bucky's laughter sounds on the other end. “They say they don't care, but I'm pretty sure Fury is going to have a talk with me the next time I come in.”

“So I take he knows about us?” Bucky asks. There's a female voice on the other end, asking Bucky if he is alright. “Hang on-- Yeah, thanks, I'm fine…. No, I don't need another size. This is good.”

“The sales people hassling you?” Steve asks with a small smile, there is some more rustling on the other end, then Bucky sighs.

“Yeah. I swear these people didn't used to be this persistent. Then again, we didn't have any money, so maybe we weren't their targets,” he mutters. “I've got everything I need, though. And I wouldn't have known where to look unless they had told me to, so it worked out alright.”

“Are stores really that different?” Steve asks, curious. This is Bucky's first real outing into the modern world, so maybe Steve has been desensitized.

“Lots of little things are different… Hang on, Steve.” Bucky pauses and there is the sound of him exiting what Steve assumes to be the changing room. The female clerk's voice sounds again, asking Bucky if he has everything he needs and leading him to the registers. Steve listens to the transaction. Buck finishes, and the woman wishes him a good evening and that she hopes he feels better soon.

“What does she mean by that, Buck? You not feeling good?” Steve asks, worried.

“Of course I'm not feeling good, Steve,” Bucky says, matter-of-fact. “Bullet wounds don't feel great, and I have ash and oil in so many crevices… But that's not what she's talking about. I look like a bum, so I told her I got mugged… was the only thing I could think of. Told her my friend sent me out to get new clothes, since I hadn't packed any extra. She seemed to buy it well enough.”

Steve sights in relief. “Other than… Other than that, you don't feel sick though?”

“No. Why would I? Even before Zola shot me up with this serum, I hardly ever got sick.”

“When I first woke up, Shield pushed to quarantine me before I could officially go out into the public. They were worried about the serum not protecting against modern bugs,” Steve explains. “We kept you in the Tower and the mansion, so I was worried you'd gotten exposed to something...”

“If I was gonna get sick with some scary 21st century bug, I would've done it already,” Bucky says flippantly. “I'm heading off to the hotel, by the way, but we can keep talking. Jarvis already ran the instructions over with me. How're thinks with you and Tony? You done anything interesting?” Although Bucky can't see it, Steve feels somewhat embarrassed for blushing at his tone.

“Bucky, we've been alone together for half an hour at most,” Steve says.

“Doesn't take that long to do a little something or other, Steve. Believe me, I know,” Bucky replies, and Steve can hear his smirk.

“Maybe for you, Buck,” Steve says flatly. “I'm not sure that's something to brag about. Some of us at least try to take a little longer...”

Bucky gasps on the other end. “You know what I meant, you punk!” he says, scandalized.

“Hey, it's not anything to be ashamed of. They make medication for it nowadays,” Steve soothes, a small smile curving his own lips.

“Oh, you're gonna regret those words, Rogers,” Bucky promises, something a little deeper in his voice. Steve can feel his face heat in much more than embarrassment now. “Gonna show you just how long I can last… and I'm gonna make you wait 'till you can't wait anymore. Or maybe we'll see if you're as good at endurance as you claim to be...”

Steve doesn't reply, brain suddenly stuck on the idea of sex with Bucky. He isn't a stranger to fantasies, or even to dirty talk, but he never thought he would have the chance of being with Bucky, let alone having sex with him. Adding Tony into the mix only further arouses, but intimidates Steve.

“Uh… Steve… was that too much? You still there?” Bucky asks after Steve's silence. “You don't… we don't have to talk like that if you don't want to… it's just with Tony… Shit, but you're not Tony.”

“No! It's uh...” Steve trails off, scratching the back of his head. “It's fine, I uh… It was new. Caught me off guard.”

“Did you like it?” Bucky asks. “Damn… I wish I could see you...” he mutters, and Steve wonders if he was supposed to hear that.

“I...” Steve takes a deep breath. “I think I liked it,” he admits shyly. “It's just… I'm nervous, I guess? It's new,” he repeats.

“Alright. I'll take it slow,” Bucky says, and Steve feels somewhat ashamed. It isn't as if it bothers him, it's just nerve wracking. He should be able to handle a little flirting, especially since he is in a relationship now.

“You don't need to!” Steve is quick to say.

“Yeah, but I don't need to talk like that either,” Bucky argues. “Don't you start doing this now, Steve. I didn't drop you when you couldn't keep your ass out of fights and I didn't like it, I certainly won't drop you now if you don't like the same dirty talk Tony does. You understand?”

“It's not that I didn't like it,” Steve argues right back. “I… I just… Bucky, I've never been in a relationship before. I never thought I'd have a chance with anyone. And now there's two of you and you're so… And I just… It startles me. How… how I'm not watching it anymore. How I'm a part of it,” he says. "I guess it's hard for me to believe."

“You need time to get used to it,” Bucky says. “There's no shame in that. Tony and I had time to get used to it. It's not fair of us to just throw you in the deep end with us.” Steve remains silent and Bucky sighs. “Gotta walk before you can run, right?” Steve echoes his sigh and nods, though he knows Bucky can't see it. “You gotta let us know when we're going too fast though, Steve. No grinning and bearing it. We're not gonna leave you just because you tell us about something you don't like or that you need to take it slow. You can ask Tony too.”

“Okay,” Steve says finally. “Okay. I'll say something next time,” he agrees.

“Good,” Bucky says firmly and with no small measure of relief. There is a pause and then Bucky says, “Hold on, Steve,” and Steve listens to the sounds of Bucky fumbling through claiming a reservation at the hotel.

At the same time, Tony exits the shower, no shirt, only in his underwear, and a towel hanging around his neck. His arc reactor shines out from between his pectorals, surrounded by a networking of scars. It's the first time Steve has really seen it, and he is honestly enamored with it. He had always thought his mom was blowing smoke when she talked about his father being even more attractive with his work related wounds, but now he understands. Beyond that, he is completely devoid of any bandaging, and he can see for the first time, the extent of his injuries. There is nothing so serious as Bucky's gunshot wound, but his body is littered with smaller wounds. There are patches of burnt skin along his neck, arms and torso, his ribs show evidence of heavy bruising, and there are many small cuts and large gashes from his head to his toes. “Shower's open if you want to claim it,” Tony says, smiling at Steve.

“I want to bandage your injuries first,” Steve asserts, standing to go and grab the first-aid kit they had brought from a nearby store. Pepper had insisted that they go to the hospital to get their injuries checked out, but Tony had adamantly refused. While Steve wants Tony to receive the proper care, he also finds himself thankful for an excuse to touch the man.

Tony looks down at himself at Steve's words and shakes his head. “I'm fine. I can take care of it myself,” he says. “You go shower.”

Steve frowns and saunters up to Tony with the first-aid kit in hand. “No,” he says firmly. “I'd like to make sure my _boyfriend_ is taken care of first.” He grasps Tony's hand and leads him over to one of the queen beds in the suite. “My other boyfriend had better take care of himself too.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Bucky says into the com. “Tell Tony I'm in my room now and if he doesn't sit still, you'll sit on him.”

“That's a good idea,” Steve agrees, eyeing Tony.

Tony looks at him nervously. “What? What did he say?”

“He got to his room alright,” Steve says. “And said I should sit on you, if you don't sit still.”

“You say that I like I wouldn't like that,” Tony points out just to be ornery, then starts squirming away from Steve.

Steve ignores Tony's comment, even though it brings a little heat to his face, and proceeds to fall onto Tony, slowly, so as not to hurt him. He avoids pressing his full weight on Tony to keep from causing him pain, but still manages to press his face into Tony's stomach and pin his uninjured leg to the mattress with his own.

“I know you'd like it,” Steve says simply, guiltily reveling in the feel of Tony's damp, shower-warmed skin against his cheek. “But at least you'd be still for once.” Tony laughs at him, still wiggling under him.

“He's ticklish,” Bucky says into the com. “But I'm not gonna tell you where. That'll be too mean.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, sitting up and turning his gaze on Tony, still laid out on the bed. The towel has fallen away behind him, and Tony is practically sprawled under Steve, hands resting by his head. It should be erotic, considering his state of undress, but with Tony giggling like a little kid and the new piece of information Steve now knows, it's more warm than anything. Steve leans up and straddles Tony's thighs, careful of his hurt knee. “I've heard from a reliable source that you're ticklish,” Steve says, interrupting whatever Tony plans to say about their change in position.

“Tony's eyes go wide. “Traitor!” he shouts loud enough for Bucky on the com to hear. Steve hears a positively evil laugh from Bucky on the other end. Steve leans over Tony and grins. “Don't you dare, Steve! Don't you dare!” Tony warns, catching Steve's wrists as his hands go for his stomach.

“It's for science,” Steve says simply. “I gotta know. For your health.” He easily breaks Tony's hold on his wrists and runs his fingers up Tony's sides. Tony curls forward slightly and laughs, fighting Steve's hands. “That wasn't hard to find.”

On the other end of the com, Bucky's laughing joins Tony's. “Agree to let me take a look at your injuries and I'll stop,” Steve promises as tears gather at the corners of Tony's eyes.

Tony remains stubborn for all of a three minutes before he caves, laughing and telling Steve to stop at the same time. He has gone from fighting Steve's hands to holding on for dear life as he coughs on his laughter. Steve takes pity on him and stops, resting his hands lightly on Tony's flanks.

“You're ruthless,” Tony says breathlessly. “Terrible. Evil. I'm gonna tell Bruce. You should be nice to me, I'm injured.”

Steve gawks at him. “I was trying to be nice to you!” he insists. Tony pushes at Steve's chest in a silent request to be let up. Steve slides himself off of Tony's legs. “You gonna let me get a look at those injuries now?”

“Do I have any choice?” Tony asks, but it isn't angry. There is a smirk on his face as he wipes his eyes. “Alright, have at me,” he says, throwing his arms wide and puffing his chest out like Steve is going to pounce on him. If he weren't injured, Steve thinks distantly, he might have.

Steve doesn't take the bait though, he immediately grabs Tony's arm, inspecting it, and pasting bandages over the areas that are scraped raw, spreading gel over burns and disinfecting the smaller cuts. He does this for every inch of Tony, from the tip of his nose to the tips of his toes. The only interruption in the now quiet moment is Bucky's “Take care of him, Steve. I'm going to take a shower. A long one,” before the com goes silent.

Steve is examining Tony's knee gently, manipulating the joint and asking him if it hurts to bend when Tony speaks up about something not injury related. “You could have been a nurse,” Tony comments, after responding negatively to most of the questions. From what Steve can tell, he just pulled a muscle, maybe sprained his knee. He doesn't know for certain, only that it isn't broken. He looks up, somewhat startled.

“You're good at this,” Tony goes on to elaborate at Steve's questioning look. “And you… you look… not happy, but calm, you know? While you do it.” There is a question there that Tony refuses to ask, Steve knows.

“My ma was a nurse,” Steve replies, wrapping an ace bandage around Tony's knee along with a pack that goes from cold to hot. “I don't… I don't like when you get hurt, but I guess it makes me feel better to help out,” he says, eyes fixed on the skin of Tony's thigh. It is odd, he was expecting every moment Tony and Steve had alone to be saturated with sexual tension, but as he runs his hands along Tony's skin, it's just quiet and intimate. Steve finds he likes it much more than the heated encounters he expected. “Guess doing this… kinda reminds of her too.”

“Did you want to be one?” Tony asks, then. “A nurse, that is. They always talk about how you were an artist, but you never know how much of that is propaganda.”

Steve fixes the metal clasps to hold the bandage in place. He pulls a pillow from the front of the bed and gently slides it under Tony's knee. “I think we should elevate this. It's not swelling too much, but it might help the pain,” he says, eyes fixed on the white fabric of the pillowcase. “And I… I like helping people, but I wanted to be an artist. I never liked seeing people get hurt and I knew if I became a nurse, that's all I'd be seeing.” Emboldened by their quiet stint together, Steve runs a finger down the rough fabric of the bandages surrounding Tony's knee and keeping it stable. “Besides, back then men didn't become nurses.”

Tony wrinkled his nose, clearly disbelieving and Steve looks up, quick to explain. “That doesn't exactly mean men didn't become nurses. I'm sure they did. But it was just something you didn't think about. A man became a doctor, married a woman, had two kids and all that.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “I used to think… that I didn't like this time because everything was so different, but looking back this is much better,” he says quietly. “You're here… I can be with you… and Bucky. I still… I still want to go home, but I think… I think I make my home here too.”

“Oh… uh… That's sweet, Steve,” Tony says. “I'm… I'm glad you made it here.” He is clearly made uncomfortable by the subject, and Steve smiles softly.

“The food's better too,” Steve adds conversationally. “Music is still hit or miss, but I can listen to whatever I want, whenever. We've been to space, and we cure infections that used to be death sentences, and… the list can go on forever… What I'm saying is, I think I'm okay with staying here for a bit,” he finishes with a smile.

“You sure you don't want to try your luck in another seventy years?” Tony asks. He is smiling ever so slightly, reclined back, just listening to Steve ramble.

“God no,” Steve gasps. “The list of movies I'd have to catch up on would be twice as long,” he says.

“True,” Tony leans up. “Alright, Captain Cares A Lot, how about you go take a shower and I can play doctor with you when you get out?” he asks.

Steve nods thoughtfully, the smile not leaving his face. He pulls the com out of his ear and proffers it to Tony. Tony takes it, but then pulls Steve forward by his collar, turning his head and pressing their lips together. They kissed for a few moments, growing slowly deeper as Steve melts into Tony.

When they pull away, it's Steve turn to go breathless. “That was nice...” Steve says honestly, Tony grins at him. “I'll see you when the hot water runs out,” he says, standing, hand still lingering on Tony's thigh. Before he disappears into the bathroom, his eyes catch on the television remote sitting on the entertainment stand next to the door. He grabs it and tosses it to Tony. “Sit still or I'll tickle you again and this time I won't stop.” Right before he shuts the bathroom door, he catches Tony sticking his tongue out at him like a child and he laughs.

Tony has just situated the com in his ear when he gets an angry call from Sam Wilson. The only warning he gets is Jarvis alerting him to a 'private call' before Sam is yelling at him on the other end of the line, directly into Tony's ear.

“What the hell, Tony?!” Sam prefaces his rant with. “I get a call on a Wednesday afternoon telling me to get my ass to an undisclosed safe house in order to meet Barnes. I get there-- that place is creepy as all hell, by the way-- I get there, there's no Barnes, there's no call, there's no cable, it's radio silence. I got no clue what's going on. I call Bruce, he tells me your house just got blown up and that everyone thinks you're dead. Three days go by with nothing and then some random number calls me and you tell, no, demand that I get ass to Florida. What. the. hell. Where is Barnes? What happened?”

“Woah!” Tony says, sitting up. “First of all, Barnes is in Florida, that's why I told you to get here. Secondly, I've been fighting an egotistical, war-mongering maniac for three days, so excuse me for not calling. Thirdly, there have been… complications. My plan was not as streamlined as I thought it was.”

“I'm beginning to think that's a theme with you,” Sam comments, though he no longer sounds like he wants to strangle Tony. “I'm on my way, by the way. You're welcome. Is everything alright?”

“We're all banged up, but fine,” Tony says. “Bucky's been shot, but there haven't been any complications yet. I've looked over your credentials and I'd like you to look him over when you get to him.” He doesn't frame it as a question because he knows Sam will want to look Bucky over anyway if Steve's description is to be believed.

“Shot? Shot where?” Sam asks, sounding very worried.

“In the shoulder of his missing arm. It's a through and through, and Rhodey said it wasn't severe. I want you to look at it though,” Tony explains. "Never hurts to get a second opinion."

“He needs a real doctor to look at him, Tony,” Sam tells him, though he sounds as if he knows what Tony's answer will be.

“We can't. That's something else we've gotta talk about. Steve just came out to Shield, and Shield thinks Bucky ran away after the mansion blew up and is on the loose and apparently 'erratic' because he doesn't like it when random redheads run him off the road and offer him drugs.”

“Wait, slow down. What?” Sam asks. “So the cat's out of the bag?”

“Not completely,” Tony says vaguely. “Our main goal right now is to get Bucky back into our hands and keep him away from Shield without them realizing we're onto them. They think he's on the run. And they think we don't know where he is.”

“Why not just up and tell them you don't trust them?” Sam suggests. “You have good reason to, right? Bruce showed me the evidence. That's pretty damning, even for an organization like Shield. And there's no way they could make a case to take Barnes away from you.”

“Thing is, Shield doesn't play fair,” Tony says. “And I don't think everyone is as in on everything as they think they are. I'm gonna call one of the head honchos and play twenty questions with him, but there's still the matter of getting Bucky back to us without Shield noticing.”

“He's not with you?” Sam asks, sounding worried. “Is he okay? Do you know where he is?”

“Yup,” Tony answers. “I'm gonna have Jarvis wire you the address. If you would kindly go pick him up and administer aid, that'd be great. I'm still trying to figure out what our next step is going to be,” he admits, tinkering with the remote in his lap. “I have a private jet...”

“Of course you do.”

“I have several, actually,” Tony comments, smirking. “My problem here is: how do we get Bucky there?” Tony ponders aloud. “I'm open to ideas right now. It's a rare opportunity. Sam?”

“Where are you headed? I could just drive him back to New York,” Sam suggests, but he sounds hesitant. Tony doesn't blame him, he wouldn't want to drive from one end of the United States to the other all over again either. Though he does note Sam's willingness to offer such a thing.

“It's… not just a secretive reason why we want him on the plane with us,” Tony admits, providing Sam with an excuse. “We just… we _talked_ , less than a day ago and now we're in a relationship, all three of us. And I know Steve'll be tearing his hair out if he has to wait to see Bucky for the time it'll take to drive across country. And it'd be suspicious if we decided to take a road trip with a random guy… Even if he is Steve's friend.”

“You and Steve are Avengers, don't you have a way we could sneak him on the plane? Like a secret contact?” Sam asks. “Congratulations, by the way. Hopefully Steve won't hide in bathrooms and make that mopey face of his anymore.”

“I'm pretty sure he'll still hide in bathrooms, just for different reasons,” Tony comments, remembering Steve's love for hot water and showers. His mind wanders for a split second to the thought of sharing a hot bath. Has Steve taken a bath? Did he like baths? He shakes his head quickly, dismissing the thought for a more convenient and appropriate time. “Anyway, being an Avenger is worth next to nothing when it comes to keeping a secret, it turns out. Unless Thor wants to let us use his magical rainbow bridge… I could probably bribe airport security to look the other way, but if Shield has a mole there--”

“Why would Shield have a mole in a Florida airport?” Sam asks, sounding incredulous and Tony chuckles.

“Sweet, naive, Sam,” Tony says. “Shield has agents everywhere. Besides, I'm sure someone suspects we're lying, even if they don't say anything to our faces. They'll have someone there to watch us and make sure they know where we're going next… and who we go with.”

“I ain't naive, Tony. This sounds insane. I don't know much about Shield, but this seems extreme,” Sam says. There is a pause on the other end as Sam thinks. “Why don't we hide him in your luggage?” It is obviously a joke, but it sparks an idea in Tony.

“That's… an idea,” Tony says thoughtfully.

“Tony, no,” Sam says, sounding scandalized. Tony just hums. “What?”

“I've got an idea. It's brilliant. Thanks,” Tony says, ignoring Sam's insistence that he not go through his new found idea. “It'll be a few days before we can leave. We can just explain you away by saying that you came looking for Steve because you were worried.”

“Fine,” Sam says dubiously. “You just need to remember that Bucky needs to have a say in what happens to him,” Sam says. Tony knows Sam has good intentions, but Tony also isn't an amateur when it comes to Bucky.

“Yup, I get it,” Tony says distantly, already planning on hanging up on Sam right there and then.

“Look, I'm sorry,” Sam says, and Tony frowns even though Sam can't see it. “Just that, I have a lot of experience with people trying to take care of their loved ones and sometimes they are so concerned about what's best for the person, that they forget to ask what they want,” he explains. Tony can't help the huff of indignation he lets out. “I'm not accusing you,” Sam states firmly.

There is a long pause as Tony chews his lip. “I feel like you are,” Tony says finally. If Sam wants to talk about feelings, Tony can talk about feelings. “I'm not-- I get how to treat Bucky. I don't need people reminding me. I've been spending time with him for almost a year now and I haven't fucked him up yet, so I don't think I'm gonna start,” he says, voice deadly calm and very fast. “And he doesn't need, nor does he want people defending him. He can take care of himself. He's not a helpless wilting wallflower. Unless your name is Steve Rogers, he'll let you know exactly how he feels about what you're doing.”

“Then maybe I should have this talk with Steve,” Sam says gently. “Or maybe you should. Like I said, I'm not accusing you. We haven't known each other for very long, but Steve's my friend and I know when Bucky gets upset, he tends to feel the same way, so I'm just covering my bases.”

Tony sighs, relaxing back and breathing through his nose as Sam waits patiently on the other end for him. With Sam being so confrontationally non-confrontational, it's hard to hold a grudge.

“That got awkward,” Sam says after a long silence. “At least now I know not to advise you without an appointment first.”

Tony snorts. “At least not without me asking. Since you're Steve's friend, I expect you to tell me what he wants for most major gift-giving holidays and give me hints as to what I did wrong when he gets mad at me,” he explains.

“Isn't it my job as the best friend to just scowl at you and make vaguely insulting Facebook posts that reference you?” Sam asks. His smile is practically audible.

“Shh…” Tony hushes him. “I'll pay you.”

“Jesus,” Sam laughs. “I think Steve would kill me.”

At that moment, Steve emerges from the bathroom, steam billowing around him. He has one of the fancy robes included with the room on, though it is a bit too small, stopping at his wrists and well above the ends of his underwear. His skin is lightly pink from the heat, and his wounds seem to have shrunk significantly since the last time Tony saw them. “Speak of the devil.” Steve looks over at him, confused, rubbing a fluffy towel through his hair. “We were just talking about you.”

“Bucky?” Steve asks, head tilting. “You'd better not be talking about my ass again.”

Tony adopts a nostalgic, distant look, leaning back. “But what an ass it is...” he sighs.

“What.” Sam obviously didn't hear Steve's comment.

“But no… Sadly, we are not talking about your ass. Unfortunately, it's Sam,” Tony explains. Steve perks up at that, meandering over.

“Unfortunately,” Sam says flatly. “Tony, you--”

“Here, he wants to talk to you,” Tony says, pulling the com out of his ear quickly before Sam can chew him out.

“Thanks,” Steve settles onto the bed and accepts the com. He looks surprised for a second when the com settles into his ear. “Sam, he's not listening,” he says with a _look_ at Tony.

Tony just shrugs and smirks at him, then pushes the first-aid kit over with his foot. “You get your gossiping done with Sam. It's my turn to play nurse now,” he says, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

“Don't move your knee around too much,” Steve admonishes as Tony sits up on his knees behind him.

“Then lean back. This is your bed too,” Tony says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and pulls him back. Steve sighs and moves with him, allowing Tony to settle him against the pillows. “Don't you sigh at me. You're not the only one who can tickle around here.”

“You don't even know if I'm ticklish,” Steve says in between talking to Sam.

“You don't think Bucky has told me?” Tony asks, looking at Steve. Bucky hasn't told him, because Tony hadn't thought to ask, but he will once they get Bucky back with them.

“He wouldn't,” Steve insists, though he does not look so sure. Tony celebrates internally.

“Do you want to risk it?” Tony asks. Steve eyes him suspiciously, but allows Tony to settle him back.

“No, no, Tony's just threatening me,” Steve says after a few seconds of listening to Sam, eyeing Tony with a knowingly.

“So what if I was? What's Sam gonna do, counsel me?” Tony says flippantly, already starting on Steve's injuries. The experience is not nearly as intimate as when Steve insistently checked Tony from head to toe, as Sam is their unwilling interloper. However, Tony doesn't like it any less, grateful for any opportunity to touch Steve now that he can.

“Sam says that the next time he sees you, you better be in your suit,” Steve reports dutifully as Tony dabs burn cream along Steve's forearms.

“You won't protect me, Steve?” Tony asks, looking into Steve's eyes and fluttering his eyelashes.

Steve merely continues to smirk at him. “As Sam puts it, 'bros before hoes,'” he quotes and Tony is left gawking, open-mouthed at him again.

“Alright, if anyone is the ho here, it's you!” Tony insists, even as Steve laughs turns his attention away from him to give Sam a rundown on what has happened so far. “Don't you ignore me, Steve Rogers. If anything, I'm your sugar daddy!” he insists.

He continues to argue with Steve, who reacts only with barely contained chuckles, while he works on Steve's wounds. Eventually, Tony quiets and tunes what Steve is saying to Sam out, focusing on getting every inch of Steve's bruised and broken skin cared for. When he finally pastes a bandage over the last abrasion and wraps the last bit of Steve's bruised chest, he tunes back into Steve's conversation to hear Steve practically bragging about him and Bucky.

“No, Sam. You should have seen it. He doesn't even need his suit… just like Bucky doesn't need his arm, they both do fine without them,” Steve explains, awe apparent in his voice. “I would like it better if they had them, but they don't need them. See, Tony made me another shield out of a garbage can lid and some kind of special coating. I wish I still had it. I could show you,” he continues. “And I had no idea Bucky was so flexible--” He pauses, his face going beet red as Sam makes what Tony assumes to be a lewd comment on the other end. “Holy shit, Sam. No. Not like that.”

“Well, maybe like that,” Tony says, leaning his head against Steve's shoulder. Steve naturally shifts to accommodate him. “Flexible, you say? We're gonna have to play with that.”

Steve gives him a warning look. “I'm on the phone, Tony. He can hear everything you're saying,” he hisses.

“So? That's his problem,” Tony says easily, but stops his commentary there. He doesn't want to upset Steve further.

There is a long pause. “Yeah, I know,” Steve says, voice somewhat hard. “It's not that I don't-- No, I'm not ashamed of it, Sam! I just… You don't talk about that stuff around people who aren't involved.” Another pause and Tony strains to hear what Sam is saying. “You might not mind, but I mind,” Steve states and Tony wonders if he is going to be in trouble after the call. “It's _my_ relationship, Sam… They're my boyfriends. What we do is not other people's business.” Another long pause and Steve nods, more to himself. “Okay. I'll keep that in mind...” The com makes a beeping sound audible to Tony and Steve winces, Tony can hear Jarvis's voice through the com, much louder than Sam's.

“Sam, Bucky's calling,” Steve says after a pause. “Yeah, I'll talk to you later. We'll figure something out.”

He pulls the com out of his ear and proffers it to Tony. “Is there any way to put this on speaker?”

“Yup. All you had to do was ask,” Tony says, accepting the little device from Steve's fingers. “Jarvis, you heard him,” he commands, and Jarvis obliges, and soon Bucky's voice, grainy through the com, can be heard throughout the room.

“Hey fellas,” Bucky greets. “Figured I'd call you before I turn in for the night… or day, really,” he says, sounding easy and sleepy.

Steve's expression immediately softens, the earlier worried and fretting expression from his conversation with Sam replaced. “How was your shower, Buck?” he asks, settling himself back into the covers. Tony moves up to lay next to him, but not too close. Steve actually rolls his eyes at Tony and wraps an arm around his waist, practically scooping him up to curl against his chest. Tony moves obligingly, tucking his head into Steve's shoulder once more, while the blonde rests his head on the top of Tony's.

“It was good,” Bucky says, almost dreamily. “Though I think my perception was a little skewed by the events of the past couple days. What about you two?”

“Would be better with you here,” Steve says tenderly, not a hint of seduction in it.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees readily. There is a long pause between the three of them, but it isn't awkward and Tony can hear Bucky's soft breathing fuzzing the audio on the com.

Steve chews his lip. “How are your injuries?” Tony asks, knowing that Steve wants to ask, but is somehow holding back.

“The gunshot wound was tricky, but I handled it, don't worry,” Bucky begins. “Everything else was pretty easy to take care of.” There is a shuffling of the covers, indicating that Bucky is indeed laying in bed. He lets out a long, tired sigh. “Jarvis said you were talking to Sam. There some kind of plan in the works?”

“Yup. Gonna get you back to us first,” Tony says. “Then we're gonna figure out how to sneak you on a plane. We're still figuring that one out.”

“I could hide in your suitcase,” Bucky suggests with a soft chuckle.

“Could you even fit in there?” Steve asks incredulously.

Bucky laughs. “You calling me fat, punk?” he asks.

“You said it,” Steve shoots back just as easily. “You've been bulking up. How am I supposed to know if that's muscle or not?”

Tony listens to the two of them banter with no small amount of amusement, grinning as they sass each other.

“If I pick you up and throw you over my shoulder like I used to when you were small?” Bucky suggests.

“You'd better not,” Steve says, frowning. “I didn't get the serum for nothing.”

“Oh, he'd better, though,” Tony butts in, trying his luck. “I want to see that. Pick Captain America up in the middle of a fight and just carry him off, Bucky. It's a good scare tactic.”

“It's a good tactic for something alright,” Steve comments. Tony and Bucky laugh. “Like proving that all the men on the Avengers team are just big cavemen in disguise.”

“See? That's a great scare tactic!” Tony insists. Steve just rolls his eyes and Bucky continues to laugh. “Be good, or Captain Caveman and his friends will tote you off to their cave.”

“Not sure that's much of a threat,” Bucky comments idly. “From what I've read on the web, pretty sure a lot of people want to get carried off by Captain Caveman.”

Tony makes a show of looking contemplative, humming and hawing. “I guess we should keep that to ourselves, then. Don't want to encourage evildoers.”

“Will you two stop?” Steve admonishes, though his voice is light. “Honestly, this is why you two don't do the planning,” he sighs.

“Guess you're right,” Bucky says fondly.

“Doesn't mean we can't dream,” Tony adds, smiling at Steve. “Captain Caveman, wearing a loincloth, fighting evildoers with a club.”

“You two are horrible,” Steve says, exasperated. “Go to bed before you hatch a plan to convince the world we're some kind of depraved sex cult.”

“Now _that_ would be a good scare tactic,” Bucky comments. “We really should let Steve do all the planning, Tony. He's a natural.”

Steve sighs and buries his face in the pillows. “What did I get myself into?” he mutters, muffled. Tony kisses him on the cheek and he can see Steve fighting the smile sliding onto his face.

“Alright. I think we've teased Steve enough,” Bucky cuts in. “And I'm tired… so… Goodnight, you two. Don't get into too much trouble without me.”

“'Night Buck,” Steve says, pulling his face out of the pillow. “Love you,” he adds shyly.

“I love you too,” Bucky says. “Tony, too,” he adds, then chuckles. "Maybe, 'I love you three,' would work best..." he ponders, then cuts off on a yawn.

“Love ya'. Goodnight Bucky,” Tony adds. “Sam should be to you soon. He didn't give us an ETA, so just stay near your com.”

“Can do,” Bucky says dutifully. Then ends the call.

“Guess we should sleep too,” Tony says, turning to Steve. The other still has an incredibly tender look on his face, and Tony feels his face heat up when Steve turns it on him, eyes running over Tony's face.

“I guess we should,” Steve agrees after a moment of staring and a slow blink. He then grabs Tony around the middle again, pressing their bodies closer and turning so that his nose is buried in Tony's neck, inhaling deeply. “Is this okay?” he asks.

“Perfect,” Tony agrees, resting his chin on Steve's head. He pulls the covers up around them, resting more fully into the pillows.

“I'm glad,” Steve says softly, lips brushing Tony's skin. “Not… not that this happened, but that I got to be with you,” it's quiet, but no less genuine. “Not just Bucky. You.”

“Me too, Steve,” Tony says. “Get some sleep.” Steve nods against his skin and relaxes. Not too long after, he is snoring softly into Tony's clavicle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	32. Are Those Bullet Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting, resting, regrouping, and making a game plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. This is very late. I'm sorry. Work and school were killing me. Now work is still killing me, but school has calmed down considerably.
> 
> This chapter chapter is brought to you free of errors by my lovely beta [castielsbumblebee](http://castielsbumblebee.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Chapter title from the Iron Man soundtrack.
> 
> Warnings: more medical stuff for this chapter
> 
> More fluff, a little bit of plot. I hope you like this! I hope to have the next chapter up pretty soon.

After Steve had fallen asleep, Tony was tempted to call Fury and try to carry on his conversation quietly. However, Sam’s words were fresh in his head. He didn’t need reminding when it came to Bucky, but Steve was a new part of their relationship, their team. He needed to be a part of it, so Tony decided to wait, reveled in Steve’s affection and slept.

Steve wakes Tony up early in the morning with a soft, tentative kiss on his forehead. Tony groans loudly, but opens his eyes, catching Steve’s retreating form by the wrist. “Get back here, Steve,” he whispers, “Where do you think you're going?”

“To order breakfast,” Steve says fondly, sliding his wrist through Tony’s grip to clasp his hand, “I’m only going to get the menu.”

“Stay in bed with me,” Tony says, holding Steve’s hand tightly, “We can get breakfast later.” Steve leans down, slipping his hand out of Tony’s. Tony closes his eyes in preparation for the kiss he thinks he is getting, but Steve just kisses his nose and dances away. “That was sneaky. It’s too early for this,” he complains, frowning.

“I’m hungry, Tony,” Steve wines, grabbing the room’s phone off of the receiver. “Any special requests?”

“You, in bed with me,” Tony says without missing a beat. Steve tilts his head at him. “Steeeeeve!” he calls, elongating the vowels when the blonde just smiles and shakes his head.

“In a minute, Tony. Let me order breakfast. You'll thank me for this later,” Steve says, pressing the phone to his ear, “You want coffee, right?”

Tony quits complaining at the mention of coffee. “You win this time, Steve,” he mutters, rolling over and pulling the blankets over his head. He listens to Steve’s muffled phone order and soon after there is a weight pressing against his back as Steve curls around him.

“See? That didn't take very long,” Steve practically coos.

“Too long,” Tony insists, “Now your side of the bed is cold.”

Steve huffs, then settles on his side next to Tony, wrapping his arms around him while he is still wrapped in blankets. “I'll just have to warm it up again,” he says softly.

Tony rolls over to face Steve. “What time even is it?”

“Seven” Steve supplies, leaning back and stretching. The groan Tony lets out is both a complaint at the time and in appreciation of watching Steve’s muscles stretch under his pale, pinkish skin.

“Too early, Steve,” Tony complains. “We didn't go to bed until, what, three, four AM?”

“I've seen you go days without sleeping, Tony,” Steve says dubiously. He smiles fondly though. “Breakfast and then you can nap some more.”

“Actually, coffee and then I'm calling Fury,” Tony corrects, stretching himself.

Steve eyes him curiously. “You gonna tell him? About Bucky?”

“Not yet,” Tony says, fiddling with the com. “But I'd like to know who's on our side. I want to know if Natasha’s really out. I don’t like being wrong, Steve, I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I wanna make sure.”

“That makes sense,” Steve says levelly, “I could honestly be wrong about Natasha. And Bucky might have just misinterpreted her intentions… But I don’t have a good feeling about her.”

“And about Fury?” Tony asks, sitting up, “What do you think about him?”

“He… hasn’t given me any reason to distrust him,” Steve says carefully, “But he also hasn’t given us any reason to trust him. He… He seems like a good man… But he keeps too many secrets. They all do.”

Tony looks over at Steve, holding his gaze, searching his eyes for that tell-tale spark of sincerity and stubbornness that tells Tony he believes in what he is saying. “Hopefully we can bring some of them out in the open,” he says, the corner of his mouth tipping up.

Steve makes another fond expression, then practically tackles Tony into bed. “I promised I’d cuddle after ordering breakfast, so let’s cuddle,” Steve says gently, wrapping his large, bare arms around Tony’s shoulders and pressing the man to his chest. He rests his head on the pillow next to Tony’s, breathing slowly and softly.

“It’s like since you suddenly got permission to touch and now that’s all you wanna do,” Tony mutters against Steve’s ear, chuckling lightly.

Steve stiffens, hold loosening. “It is all I want to do,” he mutters. He then starts to sit up, “I can stop…”

“No!” Tony nearly shouts, his arms tightening around Steve’s back, “No, I like it. Trust me. I was just making an observation.” Steve relaxes and then presses himself tightly against him again.

“You’re sure?” Steve asks, soft and unsure.

“More than sure,” Tony says firmly, “Babe, this is all I’ve wanted since you started living in the Tower.”

Steve leans up and stares at Tony, cheeks a light pink. “Why didn't you say something earlier?” he mutters, eyes watching Tony closely. His eyes flick to the side before he starts speaking again. “I mean, I know we didn’t get along… initially, but after…” There is a long pause while Steve tries to think of a replacement for the Battle of New York, but then gives up, “Afterward, I thought we were getting along okay.”

Tony feels a flush of anxiety. “Well, at first I thought you and Bucky were a thing… and I didn’t want to get in between that,” he admits honestly, “Then when it became apparent you weren’t, I figured there had to be a reason for that. Either you weren’t into guys, or Bucky wasn’t. Then Bucky didn’t completely try to kill me when I kissed him, so… You can imagine where my reasoning went.”

Steve nods, looking down, “Sorry… I guess I should have been more clear.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tony says, catching Steve’s chin and forcing him to look at him. “We should have asked. I should have asked. Just because you’re not dating your best friend doesn’t mean you don’t have a thing for him,” Tony reasons, “We all could have benefited from better communication. Bruce was the one pushing that. We should have talked more.”

Steve nods. “Still, I..” Tony rolls his eyes and then rolls up to kiss Steve, silencing him. Steve’s hands come up and cup Tony’s face as he tilts his head, his lips moving tentatively against Tony’s.

Tony pulls away after a few seconds. “And sometimes, we need to talk less,” he finishes, holding Steve’s gaze, “Not that I don’t like your voice, Steve.”

Steve opens his mouth to speak despite what Tony said, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Room service!” a male voice calls from behind the door. Steve stands, pressing a hand to Tony’s chest when he goes to follow.

“Just a minute!” Steve calls, pulling on the undersized robe that he discarded at the end of the bed. He peers through the peephole in the door, then opens it. “Thank you,” he says, accepting the cart as the man on the other end looks surprised at serving someone who is clearly Captain America breakfast.

“J-just leave the plates outside the door, we’ll pick them up,” he stutters, “You… you understand how that works, right?”

“I think I can figure out,” Steve huffs, “If you’ll excuse me.” The door shuts, and Tony snorts.

“He acts like you wouldn’t know what coffee is,” Tony comments as Steve pushes the cart over to the table in the room. “Can you operate that alright, or do you need some help?” he asks sarcastically.

Steve suddenly lets go of the cart, bringing his hands up into the air as if he had been scalded. “Golly,” he says, “That sure would be swell, Mr. Stark. I have no earthly idea what this strange contraption is.” He places his hands on his hips and bends down to examine the cart. The robe rides up, practically framing Steve’s rear, and Tony wonders if he did that on purpose while also meandering over, “What are these things here at the bottom? How’d they get them so round? Gosh, what a world.”

Tony’s hands bypass Steve’s ass in order to grab his hips, something Steve would probably appreciate more. “Those things there are called wheels. I know they didn’t have them in your time, but they’re not all that impressive,” he says, as Steve bends up into his embrace and molds himself to Tony. “Just so we’re clear,” Tony begins, pressing his nose against Steve’s shoulder, “Are you being flirty right now?”

Steve laughs lightly, placing more weight onto Tony. “Well, I’m not acting dumb for my health.” he snorts. He turns and kisses Tony on the cheek, “Am I really that bad at it?”

“I knew you were joking with the wheels,” Tony points out, “Wanted to know if you know what you’re doing when you bend down like that.”

Steve ears turn pink and he looks to the side. “It wasn’t exactly comfortable,” he mutters.

Tony grins and pulls him in for another kiss. “You didn’t do it in vain,” he assures him, “Now let's eat before all this stuff gets cold.” Steve nods, taking a seat across from Tony.

Breakfast is a relatively innocent affair, though there is still flirting. Not much of substance is actually discussed, but Tony thinks that they need that too. Steve and Bucky are both so serious most of the time, especially Steve, so it is nice to see a lighter side of him. Besides, after this, they are going to figure out if Steve’s CO equivalent is an ally. Tony will no doubt see more of Steve’s angsty side after that.

After breakfast and more coffee than Tony probably needs, they are settling on the sofa this time, com set on the coffee table. They don’t exchange any words, but exchange a meaningful look as Jarvis dials Fury’s personal phone on a secure line.

“Stark, this better be good,” Fury greets them. Tony was hoping to catch him off guard, possibly just woken up, but instead he sounds like he is expecting them.

“Fury!” Tony says, channeling all the levity he doesn’t feel into his voice, “So glad we could catch you. We need to talk.”

“Something tells me I’m not gonna like what you’re gonna say,” Fury says, but he doesn't stop Tony from continuing.

“Believe me, it’s not me, it’s you,” Tony begins, “We have reason to believe you were drugging Bucky while he was under your care… And by reason, I mean we have proof. Blood tests, and some old IVs, I had one of my guys run them. Your doctors were pumping our sergeant full of illegal sedatives strong enough to keep an elephant down.”

Fury remains silent on the other end, but Tony takes it in stride. He is perfectly content to monologue, “To make matters worse, we have probable cause. Bucky has the super soldier serum, an experimental one at that. One that you could probably replicate with enough research. That's more than enough reason to trick us into thinking he was in a coma.”

“And you’re accusing me of orchestrating this?” Fury asks, his voice has taken on an edge.

“I’m accusing somebody,” Tony agrees, “What I’m asking is, did you know about this?”

“No,” Fury says. Tony isn’t sure he believes him, “I was told what you were told, Barnes was suffering from a severe head wound.”

“You also saw what we saw,” Tony argues,.”His brain scans and x-rays were clear, there was no reason for him to be in a coma. That didn’t strike you as odd?”

Tony can hear Fury sigh on the other end. “... I was looking into it. But I didn’t find _anything_. Shield had _nothing_ to do with it other than providing care,” he says after a long pause, “Look, does this have anything to do with where Sergeant Barnes is now? Because that is our main priority.”

“We know where he is,” Tony says, Steve’s hand tightens its grip around his, “We’re not telling you. I’ll be dead before I let anyone at Shield get their hands on Bucky again.”

“I’m not interested in theories, Stark,” Fury says, suddenly incredibly off topic. Tony frowns.

“He’s being listened to,” Steve whispers into Tony’s ear.

Fury continues on. “You said it yourself, you can handle this. In fact, you should handle this,” he insists, taking both Steve and Tony by surprise.

“Wow, Fury, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that from you,” Tony says, sharing a look with Steve.

“I’m warning you, though. Do not look into Shield any further,” Fury says, ignoring Tony’s comment. “I’m strongly suggesting that you do not look into the science and medical levels 8 and 9 involved in Barnes’s care. There’s nothing there. You’re not going to turn anything up. Certainly not anything more than I have. It’s a waste of time,” he says. His voice has taken on a sarcastic tone, just under his usual firmness.

Tony smiles. “I’ll definitely not do that, then,” he confirms, “Oh, by the way, we’ve got word that a certain multi-headed serpent isn’t as dead as we’d like to think it is… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

This time there is a long pause on the other end, longer than any of the previous ones. “You know that Shield doesn’t have a branch dealing in mythology,” he says carefully, slow, “Though with Thor and his ilk running amok on Earth, maybe we should start developing one. I’ll look into it.”

“I’d like to help you out with that, if I can,” Tony says. It would be best if they could get Shield to take care of Hydra.

“Your priority is Barnes,” Fury says firmly, “Find him. Let me know when you do. I’ll call you if I turn anything up.” He hangs up without giving Tony a chance to reply.

“I think we can trust him,” Steve says, though his frown is still firmly affixed to his face, “They’re listening to him. That means they view him as a security hazard. We can use that.”

“They might just listen to everyone… though I felt like he was not so subtly hinting at me to have another look through their files. Levels 8 and 9? It shouldn’t take too long to break in, now that I know what I’m looking for,” he says.

“Do you think he knew about Hydra?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know. He sounded just as surprised as we were,” Tony says, “That agent might have just been a fluke… you know, just people trying to bring back a long dead organization, but you can never be too careful. He was very transparent about his desire to get rid of Hydra if they should still exist, though.”

“Transparent,” Steve snorted. “As transparent as Fury can get, I guess.” He leans forward, eyes set on the com, now silently sitting on the coffee table, “I say… I say we trust him… for now. He shares our interests on at least one front, and we can use all the help we can get.”

“Alright then, agreed,” Tony says, nodding, “Bucky’s our issue, but he helps us with Hydra. It’ll be good to have a man on the inside. Even if he is reluctant.” Both Steve and Tony go silent, not looking at each other, just studying their surroundings, taking in where they are now. They have surmounted one enemy, but to Tony, it feels like they haven’t made any progress. Bucky is still in danger, Hydra is still a threat, and they have very few people to trust and fewer options. Tony has been stranded with worse, though. He can make it work.

He clapped his hands, snapping Steve out of his progressively darkening expression. “We’ve got work to do,” he says, “I need another Stark Tab, so I can look into Shield. We also need to go back to the docks and see what’s left of my suits.”

“We also need to get Bucky back with us,” Steve adds, looking expectant, “Why do you need your suits? They’re… they’re all scrap now, aren’t they?” He looks hesitant to have said that, like it would offend Tony.

“I don’t need a suit that works, just one that is mostly intact,” Tony says with a reassuring grin. “They’re all garbage, but you know what they say about another man’s trash. I don’t want Shield reverse engineering them. And they might still be useful yet!” Tony stands, determined now. He can make this work. He can definitely make this work. He heads towards the door, motioning for Steve to follow him.

He is jerked back by Steve’s fingers in the hem of his underwear. “Tony, wait!” Steve says, grip firm. Tony backs up into him, wary of Steve snapping the waistline against his skin. His bare skin brushes Steve’s fingers and the man has the audacity to turn pink. “Sorry!” he shouts, retracting his hand.

“If you wanted them to come off, you could have used your words,” Tony says, “No need to act like this is a locker room.”

“No that’s-- That’s not it,” Steve says, obviously fighting a very strong urge to look down. “It’s just…” He takes a deep breath, gathering himself, “As much as I like looking at you, Tony, you need clothes. We need clothes.”

Tony looks down at himself, dressed only in his boxers. He must have gotten a little caught up in the moment. “Right…” he says, “Let’s… let’s take care of that first.”

Bucky wakes up slowly, the sun warming the skin of his cheek. He groans, everything aching in ways he wasn’t aware they could. “Steve… got a headache,” he mutters into the pillows. He reaches over to where the blonde would be and is somewhat shocked to find his space empty. He sits up quickly, right hand coming up to cradle his shoulder. He looks around the room, brain working to catch him up on the events of the past few days. He sighs. “Right,” he mutters, sliding out of bed.

He has the serious urge to stretch, straighten out stiff muscles, but he doesn’t want to pull his meticulously bandaged shoulder. “Jarvis?” he asks instead, scratching his neck.

The com he left on the unused pillow on his bed buzzes to life. “How can I help you Sergeant?” Jarvis asks kindly.

“Call me Bucky for once,” Bucky says, shooting a glare at the com, “How are Steve and Tony? Can I call them?”

“They are doing well,” Jarvis says, ignoring Bucky’s initial demand. “They are currently shopping with Miss. Potts. They are available to call, though, if I may, perhaps you should eat first?” he asks, sounding almost hopeful.

Bucky makes a thoughtful hum. “Yeah, alright,” he says. He snatches the small pamphlet up from its place on the table. On the front it has what Bucky assumes to be the wifi password as well as several phone numbers for different services in the hotel. He flips it open to find a menu with vague options such as “Standard Breakfast” and “Saccharine Treat.” The descriptions are helpful, but make breakfast seem like some dramatic production rather than a meal. He rolls his eyes and saunters over to the phone, dialing the room service number.

After Bucky has ordered his food and made sure it’s being billed to the room and not out of his pocket, he settles down to turn the television on. The news is abuzz with the events at the docks last night, including the involvement of Iron Man and Captain America. It recounts the events of the past few days, pointing to Killian as the orchestrator behind the Mandarin and confirming him dead. Bucky is relieved to see that there is no mention of his presence or of any ‘unknown third party’.

Breakfast arrives and Sam calls. “I’m coming to get you,” Sam says instead of hello and Bucky snorts.

“Is that a threat?” Bucky asks, “What’d I ever do to you?”

“Not show up at the safehouse, for one,” Sam says, huffing, “Seriously though, I’m at the hotel. What’s your room number? I’m not sure asking for a James Buchanan Barnes at the front desk is going to get me very far.”

“Probably not,” Bucky agrees, then rattles off his room number. “I’m eating breakfast. I’ll save you some,” he says affably, “Then again, maybe we should just order another plate.”

“Thanks,” Sam says, sounding relieved “I’ve been driving for a day and a half.”

Bucky whistles. “Jeez,” he says emphatically, “We really owe to one.”

“Tony owes me one. Steve’s got a pass because I was worried about him anyway. And you’re gonna pay me back in food once I get up there,” he says. Bucky can hear a car door slam and the noises of traffic around the hotel.

“Technically it’s Tony paying you back. I don’t have any money yet, considering I was technically in a coma and now AWOL. It’s all on his dime,” Bucky points out. He does his best not to feel guilty about that, the fact that he and Steve have been relying so heavily on Tony. He knows Tony is beyond happy to do it, would do it even if Steve and Bucky didn’t need it so desperately. “You’re a good friend, Sam,” he says after a small pause.

“You’re damn right, I am,” Sam says firmly, “Glad to know I’ve got the childhood friend and boyfriend’s approval.”

The next time Bucky hears from Sam, it is him knocking on his hotel room door. Bucky peeks out to make sure it’s him, then unlatches the door to let him in. Sam is carrying a small backpack and a large red bag, both full to bursting. Bucky eyes them curiously as Sam makes his way inside. Before they shut the door, Sam throws a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the outside handle. “It’s getting close to the time housecleaning generally comes through. Wouldn’t want them blowing your cover,” he says, “Now let’s get a look at that arm. Is it hurting you too bad?”

“What about your food?” Bucky asks, even as he submits to Sam herding him into a chair.

“We can take care of that later,” Sam says, “Once I know you’re not actively bleeding out.”

Bucky huffs, but submits to Sam’s prodding, allowing him to unwrap the copious amounts of gauze and other wrappings Bucky improvised with. Sam makes a disgusted noise once he gets to the layer that Bucky first ran out of gauze at. “Is this toilet paper?” he asks, pulling the paper away. It is greasy from the antiseptic spray having soaked through it.

“I didn’t have a lot of gauze left after the first round of bandaging,” Bucky shrugs and explains, “I went a little overboard with the spray. It didn’t really have a lot of control.” Sam pushes the bedside garbage can over with his foot, discarding the soiled paper there.

“It’s not bad, considering,” Sam says,. “Did you get it wet?”

“I tried not to,” Bucky says, “But there’s no stitches, I didn’t see why I couldn’t?”

Sam groans, but doesn’t berate him. “At least you bandaged it again,” he mutters. Bucky hisses once the wound is exposed to open air and has to repress a yelp when Sam pokes his fingers at it. “Tony was right, this isn’t too bad,” he says reassuringly. “It doesn’t look like it’s in danger of getting infected. All things considered, you’re lucky,” he says, looking up at Bucky’s face, “I don’t want to mess around with it too much. You have pain killers for it?”

“If I did, they wouldn’t work,” Bucky says flatly, “The serum is surprisingly effective.”

Sam hummed, then knelt to dig through his bag. “Bruce gave me something,” he says, “When I left for the safe house.” He extracts a little orange bottle, rattling it and proffering it to Bucky. “Painkillers in pill form, so you don’t have to keep sticking yourself. They’ll take a little longer to kick in, obviously, but they’re better than nothing,” he reasons.

Bucky accepts the bottle. “Definitely,” he agrees. He manages to pop the cap open one-handed, obviously the bottle was designed specifically for him, and pops two of the pills in his mouth, washing them down with a sip from his coffee, “How long we gotta wait?”

“Twenty minutes or so, I think,” Sam says, pulling gauze pads and bandages out of the first-aid kit, “Plenty of time for me to order my food. Then we can see about getting you bandaged back up.”

Room service is rightly perplexed by a second order from the same room, but upon the new delivery boy catching sight of Bucky, he can see the understanding don on his face. “Yeah, I eat a lot,” Bucky agrees, grabbing the plate from him and handing him the empty one. He keeps his injured arm angled away from the door and the boy, thankfully, doesn’t notice.

Sam seems to sense when the painkillers finally take effect, probably because Bucky’s posture starts to loosen. As he is no longer tense and favoring his shoulder. He accosts Bucky the moment he relaxes back into his seat.

“Your food,” Bucky insists, frowning as Sam puts him first over himself for the third time that day alone, “I’ll keep.”

“Nah, it’s best to start working when the pain meds are strongest, don’t you think?” Sam replies easily. “Plus, it’s not like french toast can actually go bad if it gets cold,” he comments with a shrug. With that, he sets about bandaging Bucky’s shoulder, fingers incredibly skilled and gentle. Bucky wonders if he would have even needed the painkillers in the first place.

After he is through, Sam smiles at him softly. “Alright, I’m just gonna go eat,” he tells him. Bucky waves him off with a lazy movement, body limp and relaxed against the seat he is in. He closes his eyes and dozes while he waits for Sam to finish.

An unknown amount of time later, he is roused by the com buzzing to life, Sam looking around for it. “It’s on the pillow,” Bucky tells him, sitting up.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice filters through the com just as Sam snatches it off the pillow.

“He’s here. And so am I,” Sam says, bringing the com over to the small table they were both sitting at, “What’s up?”

“Sam!” Steve says, voice filled with so much happiness that Bucky figures even if he didn’t like Sam, he could stay, “I’m glad you could make it. Thank you so much for coming here… For taking care of Bucky, it means a lot.”

“Bucky’s pretty good at taking care of himself, so no need to thank me for that,” Sam says, smiling at Bucky from across the table, “What’s the plan? Want me to bring Bucky over to you?”

Steve pauses and asks Tony the same question Sam asked. “Yeah. That sounds good,” Tony says, “Go to our room. Jarvis will give you the instructions. We’re not home, so Shield’s probably not monitoring our hotel room as closely. You should be able to get in relatively easily.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “This is nuts, you know that?” he mutters. “I assume Jarvis will be letting us in too?” Sam asks, already moving to pack his bag back up.

“Yup,” Tony says, “So Bucky, are you averse to wearing a makeshift prosthetic until you get here? Shield will be looking for a one armed man, so it might make you harder to spot if you aren’t missing an arm.”

“I don’t care much,” Bucky says, standing and wobbling slightly. Sam drops what he’s doing immediately and rushes to his side, helping to prop him up. The painkillers are doing a wonderful job of dulling his aches and pains, but they are also seriously messing with his equilibrium. “How do you suppose we make one?”

“Bathroom towels, I guess. Pillow cases. Anything you can roll up and shove up your sleeve to fill it in. It doesn’t need to look perfect, just like you’ve got an arm in there,”Tony ponders. “I wish you could use the one I made you… then you’d have form and function.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, “I’ll heal… and then you can make me a new one. We’ll make due with the hotel towels for now.” After a pause, he adds, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Be safe,” Tony replies.

Steve echoes the sentiment, with an added, “Can’t wait to see you,” that would ordinarily sound forced, but with Steve, Bucky knows it’s genuine.

Bucky and Sam spend the next ten minutes carefully stuffing Bucky’s sleeve. They do their best, so that he looks equal on both sides, and then Sam carefully pins the sleeve into his pocket. It will look odd if anyone looks at it too long, very rarely do people walk around with one hand in their pocket, and the arm itself is very lumpy in ways that obviously do not hint at muscle, but it will do.

“Alright, you ready to go?” Sam asks, shouldering his own bag and the first-aid kit. Bucky’s own meager possessions fit easily into Sam’s bag.

“Been ready,” Bucky confirms. And with that, they make their way out of the hotel, into Sam’s small car, and towards Steve and Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kas_0114) to post updates for all my little projects, since I never do on my Tumblr.


	33. I Got a Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony always has a plan to keep them all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is late yet again, but finals are over, so hopefully I'll have more time to update for you!
> 
> Thanks to [Castielsbumblebee](http://castielsbumblebee.tumblr.com/) for being my lovely and capable beta.
> 
> Chapter title is from Avengers
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Bucky's painkillers, and some vague mentions of claustrophobia.

In their attempts to call as little attention to themselves as possible, Bucky and Sam managed to garner more than their fair share of looks from people passing by in the lobby of the hotel where Steve and Tony were staying.  Whether it was because Bucky looked like he had been drugged and then mugged or because Sam was a very handsome man on a mission, people couldn’t seem to look away from them. Scratch that, it was definitely because he looked like an assault victim, Bucky realizes with a shock. Once he is granted access to Steve and Tony’s room and comes face to face with a floor to ceiling mirror, he discovers how terrible he actually looks. His pupils are dilated, his clothes are horrendously rumpled from two days of use, and his shoulder looks odd and misshapen.

Despite his anxieties about drawing attention, once they are in the room, there is no loud knocking or S.H.I.E.L.D. agents crashing through the windows. The opulent multi-roomed suite is silent and still as Steve and Tony haven’t returned from their shopping trip yet.

Sam whistles at the large suite. “Wow, Stark goes all out,” he says, striding into the room. Housekeeping has obviously not been permitted to come through and clean the room because one bed is conspicuously rumpled, and there is tattered clothing and used bandages still discarded in the hotel trashcan. The other bed in the room is pristine, and Sam immediately strides over to it and throws his bag on it.

Bucky ignores him, choosing to walk over to the used bed and fall into the soft blankets and bury his head into the pillow. He groans, shutting his eyes and smelling both Steve and Tony on the pillows. The hotel shampoo washes out the bulk of their scent, but it’s obvious they both had slept in the bed the night before. He sinks gratefully into the covers. He can hear Sam snort at him, but he ignores the man, content to doze on the soft mattress and warm blankets.

\-----

If Steve was not aware of it before, he knows now that Tony is a force to be reckoned with when he wants something. It turns out S.H.I.E.L.D.  had indeed collected all of the suit pieces left, claiming they needed them for evidence in the investigation. Tony was having none of it.

“Unless you’re planning on implicating me for something,” Tony begins, pointing his finger in the stoic Shield agent’s face, “ Those suits are mine. I’ve already fought the federal government on this, don’t make me come after S.H.I.E.L.D., too.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we just can’t…” he insists, though he grows pale as Tony’s expression morphs into one of anger. He straightens, swallowing, and tries unsuccessfully to puff up and intimidate Tony, “We cannot relinquish the pieces to you. We do not plan on accusing you of anything, except for saving the world. However, this is important to our investigation of AIM--”

Again, Tony isn’t having any of it and interrupts him, “AIM has nothing to do with my suits. Do I need to call Director Fury? Or how about I contact the President of the United States. I hear he owes me one.”

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent’s eyes widen exponentially. “No… No, sir. That won’t be necessary. I’ll… I’ll contact my supervisor,” he says, leaving Steve and Tony to themselves as he disappears into the forensics tent.

Tony sighs and pinches his nose. “Again with this,” he mutters, leaning against the wall, “It’s like they don’t know that they could pull out a contract with SI and get equivalent technology. I’m not about to give them my suit technology, but my reactor tech is hardly a secret.”

Steve looks to the tent that the agent disappeared into, “They don’t want the reactor tech… They want to weaponize it. They want your suits and the repulsors. They haven’t exactly been secretive about wanting to make Super Soldiers. If they can’t replicate the formula, then they can try to replicate your suits.”

Tony nods thoughtfully. “Try is the keyword there,” he says. “Never succeed. I have self-destruct routines installed in every suit just in case someone tries to crack the code,” this, he says much louder than a conversational tone. He looks back at the tent that his suits are supposedly being stored in, “The suits won’t do them any good. Even if there’s just a chip left of the suit, it’ll go out with a bang the moment you try to access its components.” No one comes scurrying out of the tent right away, but several clean up teams, mopping up oil and debris, look up. Tony sighs, “I swear, if I have to call Fury _again_.”

“That won’t be necessary,” a man says, emerging from the tent. He stands behind the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, hands folded behind his back, wearing a pristine suit. “Hello, Mr. Stark, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he approaches Tony and holds out a hand, “Agent Sitwell.”

“Good to meet you,” Tony says, returning the handshake, though with a clear air of impatience. “So am I going to get my suit pieces back, or am I taking your asses to court?” he asks bluntly, pulling his hand away.

Agent Sitwell doesn’t answer right away, instead turning to Steve and nodding. “It’s an honor, Captain,” he says. Steve returns the nod and does his best not to look uncomfortable. “Director Fury should be contacting you soon about a position on our strike team, as it seems the Avengers will be… Out of commission… For a while.”

Steve doesn't try to hide his surprise, “Strike? To find Bucky?”

“No, for general response. Bucky will be your responsibility. As agreed,” Sitwell says formally, “I look forward to working with you.” He breaks his stoic expression to smile at Steve. It doesn’t make him any more comfortable with the thought of continuing to work with S.H.I.E.L.D.

He turns back to Tony, addressing the impatient man. Tony actually goes so far as to look at his watch and tap his foot, as if they have places to be. As much as Steve is anxious to see Bucky, JARVIS had said that he and Sam were napping in the hotel for the time being, so there was no great rush. He figures Tony is just purposely being a pain and has to repress a smile. Most of Tony’s parading as an asshole is an act. Steve knows that, but he didn’t know until recently to what extent. “As for your suits, we are packing the remaining pieces into a container to be transported. I would assume you would like it in your van?” he asks, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. My agent was misinformed. The suits will be released to you.”

“There better be every piece there,” Tony warns, “If I see even a chip of paint missing, you’ll know.”

“I couldn’t help, but overhear your conversation with the Captain,” Sitwell starts, ignoring Tony’s threat. “S.H.I.E.L.D. would be interested in renewing their contract with SI. We are currently upgrading our Helicarriers. We are interested in using repulsor technology for air travel, nothing else,” he says.

“You’ll have to contact my CEO first,” Tony says, “Can’t make any promises without her permission, but I’m not against it.”

“We will be doing that within the next few days,” Sitwell agrees. Another agent, different from the one before, comes up and speaks in Sitwell’s ear. “Looks like we’re finished packing everything up for you. I’ll have a few of my agents carry it out to your van for you. I look forward to doing business with you in the future,” he says.

Tony just nods, grabbing Steve’s hand and walking them in the direction of the van. “Does that guy give you a bad feeling?” Tony asks quietly as they walk, glancing behind himself momentarily, “I can’t place my finger on it, but there’s something about his smile...”

Steve resists the urge to look back to see if Sitwell is still watching them. “I don’t like him,” he agrees. “He was too… Easy, and I’m pretty sure he was listening to everything we said, not just what you shouted,” he says, voice lowering, “Are we bugged?”

“They had no opportunity to do that,” Tony says, rubbing his chin, other hand still grasping Steve’s. “Probably bugged the area around the tent,” he continues. Steve casts his eyes around them, wondering if he could catch sight of the tiny microphones with his enhanced eyesight.

Tony squeezes his hand and grins at him. “I’ll have to make a scanner for that… Since we’ll apparently be working together soon,” he says quietly, “We’ll have to go through the suit parts to make sure we don’t have any friends waiting for us.”

Steve nods seriously and Tony swings their hands a bit. “Don’t worry too much, Steve,” he says breezily, “We’ve got experience with this. We’ll be okay.” He leans up to kiss Steve on the cheek before leading them the rest of the way to the van. Not for the first time, Steve felt thankful for Tony’s presence. He gives him perspective, and although he wouldn’t call Tony an optimist, far from it, his come-what-may behavior is refreshing. His confidence, borderline arrogance helps Steve to see through the darkest of situations. He finds that he can believe Tony will help them; that he knows what he is doing.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees softly, returning the tight grip Tony has on him, “We can do this.”

They take the van and pull into an out-of-business BlockBuster parking lot, a landmark that makes Steve feel old and out of touch. He was asleep for the rise and fall of a lot of companies, even chains, and it is odd. Tony pulls him out of it though, smiling at him. “Look at that, a relic younger than you are,” he says in a jokingly wondrous voice.

“Shut up, Tony. At least I came back,” Steve huffs, and Tony laughs.

They move into the back of the van, popping the lid on the suit parts recovered from the docks. Tony begins lifting pieces out of the box easily, turning them this way and that, and then setting them down on the soft, static-free rugs of the interior. Most of the suits are in pieces; there is a stray gauntlet, a faceplate, and lots of metal pieces with circuitry exposed. Some are blackened by fire, and others look as if they had spent some time on the shallow seafloor surrounding the docks. Tony is beginning some strange sort of system. Pieces that are mostly intact he separates into one pile, and pieces that are not are tossed haphazardly to the side. At the end of his sorting venture, he has most of a single suit assembled. It is multicolored, dented, and partially melted, but it could be considered a full suit.

“Alright! Now we’re in business!” Tony whoops. He swipes a hand through the bottom of the container before shrugging and kicking it out of the truck. “We’ll just leave this here,” he says with a smile.

“Can you really get that working?” Steve asks, perplexed. He knows Tony has an impressive skill set, but he isn’t quite aware of how impressive.

“Hell no,” Tony says, then pauses, rubbing his chin. “Well, maybe, but it’d take a while and a lot of effort, and why would I do that when I can easily just make a new one?” he ponders to himself. Steve recognizes it as a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother to answer him. “The point of this is not function… It’s form,” he explains. At Steve’s confused look, he continues. “I just gotta put one of these together and make it look like it might work…”

“Why? Scare tactic?” Steve asks, incredulousness seeping into his voice. “I think they’re already scared of you. You don’t need the suit.”

“Aw… Are you calling me intimidating, Steve?” Tony asks, pressing a hand to his chest, “Little old me?”

“Sure, very intimidating,” Steve says, smirking and rolling his eyes. He then reaches up and ruffles Tony’s already messy hair, “You and your soft brown eyes, and fluffy hair.”

“My hair is not fluffy,” Tony argues, crossing his arms, but his lips are fighting a smile. “It’s windswept,” he asserts, running a hand through the front of it, extenuating its already voluminous point.

“Whatever you say, Tony,” Steve shrugged, “How about we make it back to the room with Bucky and Sam before they cost you your fortune in room service.”

Tony flapped his hand in dismissal. “I can afford it,” he says confidently, “They could order the whole menu ten times and it wouldn’t even put a dent in my account.”

“Best not to risk it…” Steve says, “You never know, Sam might have an affinity for caviar and cremebrûlée.”

“More like I don’t want to wait around here any more when I could be seeing Bucky,” Tony says, “Let’s go.” The both of them climb into the front of the van, driving away with their spoils.

When they get back to the room, Bucky is sound asleep on their shared bed, spread-eagle on his stomach with his face buried in the pillows. It looks like Sam tried to throw a blanket on top of him, but Bucky has basically twisted himself into it, leaving his arm and the toes of his left foot showing. He doesn’t stir when they come in, and neither of them really feel like disturbing him. They address Sam instead who has taken residence on the small couch in the room, feet up on the ottoman. He has a book open in his lap, and he looks up and smiles when Steve and Tony walk in, toting several bags full of clothing, food, bandages, tools, electronics and suit parts.

“How’d it go?” Sam whispers, standing to greet them. Tony grins, opening on of the paper grocery bags and showing him the cannibalized suit parts. Sam whistles, “You buy those?”

“We reclaimed them from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s evil clutches,” Tony says, punctuating the sentence with a pump of his fist. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. S.H.I.E.L.D. is fishy, you gotta fight them ‘cause you’re the good guys, but not outright because you’re also a bunch of wannabe secret agents. What else you got? I hope it’s another shirt for Bucky because the one’s he got on is going to be rank after sleeping in it twice.”

“Of course… Though I’d like to see him without a shirt…” Tony says, casting his eyes over at the sleeping Sergeant.

Sam huffs. “So would most of the world probably,” he comments, snickering when Tony wrinkles his nose, “Hey Steve, if you’re hurting, I have some painkillers made by Bruce specially for super soldiers. They worked wonders on Bucky. I don’t think he realized he was hurting as bad as he was until he took them because they knocked him out… It might also just be a side-effect of the meds, but who doesn’t need a good nap now and then, huh?”

Steve is incredibly relieved to know that Bucky is getting relief for the pain he was very obviously experiencing. The man is scarily good at hiding his pain after being forced to endure it during the war, but Steve knows gunshots aren’t painless, no matter how well they are cared for. “Thank you, Sam,” he says earnestly. He accepts the small orange bottle that Sam proffers to him, but sets it down on the side table. “I don’t need any… All my wounds are pretty much healed by now,” He pushes up his sleeve and shows Sam the new, pink skin of his forearm, “They don’t hurt anymore.”

Instead of fixing him with his usual concerned look when Steve says he is fine, Sam smiles. “Glad to know,” he says, “Not much can keep any of you down, can it?”

“Nope!” Tony says, carrying his bag of spoils further into the room. He heads into the kitchenette-dining area combo and dumps the contents of his bag on the table. He is obviously trying to be quiet about it. Steve and Sam are quick to follow him, but in the short amount of time it takes to get there, Tony is already sorting the suit out, setting pieces on the floor in the shape of a completed suit and muttering to himself, taking inventory.

“Wow, they really did a number on your suit, didn’t they?” Sam comments, eyes wide.

“Suits,” Tony corrects, “This is just what I could salvage… And some of this stuff is questionable.” He waves a gauntlet missing two fingers in Sam’s direction, “Hey, Steve, baby, I need that soldering pack we bought… Also probably that flathead screwdriver. We’ll save the drilling and hammering for when Bucky wakes up.”

Steve sniggers, covering his mouth with his free hand. Tony pauses, then grins wickedly at Steve. “Your mind just went somewhere dirty, didn’t it?” Steve doesn’t say anything, but looks away, face turning a little pink. “It did!” Tony accuses, almost triumphantly, “Oooh, we’re being a bad influence on you! Get your mind out of the gutter, Steven. I just don’t want to wake him up with the noise.”

“You’re damn right it’ll be noisy,” Steve chokes out. Tony blinks at him, then bursts out laughing.

“Y’all are gross,” Sam claims emphatically, “I’m gonna go read my book. Please refrain from hammering and drilling while I’m still in the suite.”

“Can’t make any promises!” Tony calls after Sam’s retreating form, “You know how Cap can get.”

“I don’t wanna know. You keep that to yourself,” Sam says.

After Sam is gone, Steve manages to get a hold of himself and pulls the aforementioned tools out their bags. “Is there any way I can help?” Steve asks, though he fully expecting to be told no.

“Yes!” Tony says, clapping his hands, “Here, I need you to fit these pieces together.” He pushes a small pile of metal and what looks like a forearm in Steve’s direction. “It doesn’t need to be perfect, just… Passable. Let me know if there are any big gaps,” He sets up the soldering kit, “We can share this. You know how to solder, right?”

“A little?” Steve says, feeling unsure. He had done some for his art assignments in college once, and he used soldering irons for engravings occasionally.

“Here, I’ll give you a refresher,” Tony situates himself next to Steve, pressing into his arm, “So you’re gonna need to make sure this is hot…”

A few hours later, Steve and Tony have managed to get most of the suit soldered back together. Tony had to perform some very dangerous, makeshift welding that sends sparks spraying across the kitchen tiles and making the room smell metallic. Eventually, though, the suit is in one piece. It is very piecemeal, some pieces are red and gold, and others are silver. It looks like a Frankenstein’s monster of a suit. Tony extracts some sandpaper, paint, a spray mechanism and several masks. In the process, Bucky wanders in, blinking sleepily at them, but then grinning once his brain catches up with what he is seeing.

“Tony, Steve,” Bucky says, voice rough with sleep. He kneels between them and looks at the suit. “What’s this? Modern art?” He asks jokingly, nudging the machine with his bare toe.

“Something Tony’s cooking up,” Steve replies. He leans over and places a tentative kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, and he smiles warmly.

“It's my plan on how we’re gonna get you to New York,” Tony fills in. He stands, stopping to drop a kiss of his own on Bucky’s head. He makes his way to the window and slides it open as wide as it will go before settling back down next to Steve and Bucky, cross legged. He goes about putting together the paint sprayer. “So if you two would like to help me sand down the rough edges on this thing, we can get to the fun part,” he says, nudging the packet of sandpaper near them, “There should be a sander in there somewhere, but I bet you super soldiers don't need it, huh?”

“Is that a challenge?” Steve ribs, grinning.

“All I'm saying is that I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to see you two flexing…” Tony replies, winking at Steve.

Bucky snorts. “Hand me that paper,” he says, already reaching for it, “I'll show you flexing.”

“Don't get too carried away!” Sam calls from the other room, “That bullet wound isn't gonna heal if you break it open!”

Bucky huffs and glares in his direction as Steve laughs. “He means well,” Steve comments lightly, patting Bucky on the back.

With all three of them working now, it takes very little time to smooth out all the welded edges and paint the whole thing a matte silver. While Steve finishes with the painting, Bucky helps Tony to fiddle around with the suit’s helmet, figuring out how to get the eyes to glow and recharging the arc reactor before sealing the electronics of the suit down. Tony then moves on to cannibalize the spare hotel pillows, using superglue to attach them inside the suit for padding.

“Alright Tony, now I’m really curious,” Bucky says, pulling off the mask he was using to avoid breathing in the paint fumes. It still stinks, but Bucky must think it is relatively safe to breath the air now. “Why the luxury treatment for this suit?” he asks.

“Generally the suit’s got a special interior,” Tony begins, engrossed in this work, “Stuff to keep it from pinching… Shock absorption… Chafing… Most of the suit is missing that membrane now, so it’s just hard metal.” He knocks it with his knuckles, making a clanging noise. “In other words, the suit’s not gonna be comfortable unless I pad it with something,” he finishes.

“You’re talking like someone is going to be riding in that thing,” Steve points out, voice muffled by the mask he is still wearing, “You’re not--”

“Oh! I didn’t mention…?” Tony trails off, rubbing his chin as he probably scans his memory to figure out if he actually told Steve and Bucky his plan, “I didn’t. Well, surprise! Bucky is going to be riding in it.”

“All the way to New York?!” Steve nearly yelps, “Can that fly to New York?”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “You’re not thinking outside of the box. I told you, Steve, This thing can’t fly at all. It doesn’t need to. This is how we’re gonna smuggle Bucky onto the plane,” he explains, matter-of-fact, “It’s a private plane, so we can skirt TSA, but S.H.I.E.L.D. might still try to search our luggage or the plane, if they’re feeling ballsy. Bringing a suit on is less suspicious than a huge ass bag.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. “I was worried about that,” he says, looking over the suit, now with more of a critical eye, “Thought you were gonna make Sam drive me back.”

“Your loss,” Sam calls, “Would have been the coolest road trip of your life.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Bucky says neutrally, “So… Am I gonna try this on before you shove me into it?”

Tony hits a button and the suit opens up to them, the panels folding up. Bucky huffs and leans down into it, , making himself comfortable. “Alright, so there’s a button on the right gauntlet,” Tony instructs, pointing to it, “You press that, it locks the suit on the inside. No one can open it except for you. This other one just closes the suit. This button here...” He points to the button along the collar of the suit, hidden among the plates for the throat. “Anyone can open the suit pressing this button, assuming you haven’t locked it from the inside. You’re not gonna be deaf while you’re in the suit, but you’ll be blind, so use your super hearing to tell if you need to lock yourself in or not… It should be smooth sailing, but you never know…”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps throwing us curve balls,” Bucky fills in, leaning down into the suit again. He presses the button to close the suit and flinches before the face plate closes over his face. It is very silent while Steve and Tony stare at him worriedly, unsure of how he will react to the confined space. As far as Steve knows, Bucky has never been claustrophobic, but he has never liked not being able to move.

After a few minutes, Tony knocks lightly on the chest plate, “How you doing in there?”

“I don’t know how you do this,” Bucky says after a long pause, “I don’t like it… But I can manage it… I’ll manage it.”

“It won’t be for long, if we’re lucky…” Tony reasons, “If it’s really bad though… We can try something else.”

“It’s just weird not being able to move,” Bucky says quickly, “It’s not that it’s uncomfortable or anything… And I know I can get out whenever, but… It’s just my brain playing tricks on me, you know?”

At that, Sam comes and stands in the doorway, like the caring soul he is. “We won’t leave you alone in that thing. I bet it wouldn’t be weird if Tony walked up with his suit… We could try that?” he suggests. There is no judgement or patronization in his voice, just genuine concern.

“Of course! I do what I want,” Tony asserts, crossing his arms, “Nobody’ll question if I talk to the suit either. Some people think that I don’t pilot the thing myself anyway.”

Bucky sighs and the suit opens up. “I don’t know how you do that,” he repeats, hand massaging his chest.

“To be fair, it can usually move when I’m in it,” Tony reasons. Bucky laughs weakly.

Steve doesn’t like the colorless look of Bucky’s skin. He is no longer panicking, but it looks like a near thing, so he crowds forward and gently folds Bucky into a hug. He can feel Bucky relax in his arms. “What’s wrong, Steve? I wasn’t gone that long,” Bucky says gently, patting Steve on the back.

“You don’t have to do this. We can figure something else out,” Steve says firmly. He pulls back and makes sure to catch Bucky’s eyes. Surprisingly, Bucky looks a lot calmer, a fond smile on his lips and his eyes soft.

“I can do it, Steve,” Bucky says gently, “It’s uncomfortable, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with. I can do it.”

After a few more seconds of carefully studying Bucky’s face, Steve lets him go with a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I know you can,” he says, “But you don’t have to.”

“It’s the easiest way,” Bucky says, “Plus, I’d hate to refuse Tony after all his hard work.”

“Wasn’t that hard,” Tony says with a shrug, “It’s not like I’d be offended.”

Bucky huffs, climbing out of the suit completely, and settling back down on the floor. “I can do it,” he insists, “And I’m going to do it. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.” He looks at the both of them sternly, standing and making his way to where Sam is standing at the door. “Now, I’m hungry. It’s almost dinner, and I know neither of you have eaten lunch. Come help me pick something out from this fancy ass menu.”

Tony and Steve don’t make him wait, and Steve can hear Sam snort as he follows the three of him out the door. “Good to know I can always distract you with food,” he says with a chuckle.

“I’m pretty sure you can do that with anyone, not just us,” Tony points out, then tosses a menu Sam’s way, “Order what you want. My treat, you know the drill.”

“Oh, I’m starting to,” Sam agrees, eyeing the three of them with a knowing smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/)


	34. Bring Him Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude: Steve and Tony fool around on a plane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I'm really slowing down on updating this and I have 0 excuses. I've kinda gotten into another fandom at the moment (as those of you following me on Tumblr might have noticed and I apologize), but I have no intention of abandoning this, so fear not. It's just gonna take me a bit before I get back into the groove of writing it again.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: There is smut. 
> 
> Thanks to [Castielsbumblebee](http://castielsbumblebee.tumblr.com/) for once again betaing this chapter!
> 
> Chapter title is from the Agent Carter soundtrack

To say that things went smoothly at the airport would be a lie, though they went much better than Tony expected. Getting one of Tony’s private jets to Florida is an easy task. Everyone at SI was now aware of what happened with AIM and Iron Man in Florida, and so they had all been awaiting his call anyway. Checking luggage is an easy task too, as he and Steve have very little. Between the two of them, they have one bag full of entertainment for the flight and one suitcase packed only with their newly bought clothing. Sam’s things adds a whopping two backpacks to the pile. Tony would have carried them on himself if the airport staff hadn’t been so insistent on being ‘polite’. He has no doubt that they go through everything in their suitcases from top to bottom, but as long as they don’t take anything, Tony doesn’t care. Even if they do, he can always buy what they lost again.

The suit is another story. The airport is very resistant to allowing him to drive onto the runway with it, and he is sure as hell not going to let them try to get it on the plane themselves. They may be initially stubborn, but the staff bends easily to money, Tony soon finds out. After he pays off the manager, he is free to drive whatever he wants onto the plane, be it his suit or ten kilos of cocaine.

The suit is heavy, even gutted as it is, and Bucky is not exactly a lightweight either. It takes both Steve and Tony to lift it out of the back of the van and onto the rolling table that they will be using to push it up the ramp. Once the job is done though, it is easy enough to push with the extra assistance of the motorized wheels. Tony talks to Bucky the whole time they pull him up the ramp, giving him a running dialogue of what is going on and assuring him it won’t be long.

Once they have Bucky up the ramp, Sitwell comes to see them off with his polite, uncomfortable smile and about twenty junior S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. “I look forward to seeing you in New York,” he says kindly, though Tony can easily hear the ulterior motive in his voice, “We’ll start negotiations as soon as you land. Will that give you enough time to get situated …?”

“I don’t know… Steve and I have another  _ project  _ we’re working on,” Tony says, watching Sitwell closely for a reaction, “Depending on how that works out… I might be busy for a few weeks.”

“Of course,” Sitwell replies easily. “I heard from the Director that you might be preoccupied. Feel free to contact me if you need any help,” he says.

“Believe me, you won’t be the first person I call,” Tony says, waving Sitwell off, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a plane to catch.” He turns, ushering both Steve and Sam up the ramp and onto the plane.

Tony introduces them to the pilot and copilot, men Tony picked out because he knows they can keep a secret and have before. They won’t be laying eyes on Bucky just to be sure, but he knows if they did they wouldn’t go crying to S.H.I.E.L.D. There are no flight attendants, which the copilot comments as odd, but silences himself at Tony’s wink. “This is a private flight, you know?” he says, voice laden with innuendo. To punctuate it further, he turns his loving gaze on Steve. The pilot nor the copilot act perturbed, they just nod in understanding and then laugh when Sam pretends to gag in the background.

Pepper joins them about a half hour before takeoff, dressed immaculately as usual and looking for all the world like your average successful CEO, not someone who could blow up if they got a little too anxious. She gives Steve and Tony gentle pecks on the cheek, and she introduces herself to Sam politely.

“Heard you get paid to babysit this loser,” Sam greets after they have exchanged names, pointing back at Tony with his thumb.

She looks surprised at his bluntness, but smiles. “That was my first job… Now I babysit the whole company,” she says and Sam whistles, clearly impressed.

Once they are in the air, Tony lets Bucky know he can come out by knocking gently on the faceplate. It flicks up first, followed by the rest of the suit soon after, Bucky sitting up, looking groggy.

“The painkillers really did the trick,” Bucky slurs, blinking slowly at Tony, “How long…?”

“Little less than an hour,” Tony fills in, helping Bucky’s wavering form up and out, “Not too bad?”

“Suit gets cozy after a while,” Bucky replies. Tony deposits them both on the couch next to Steve and Bucky immediately snuggles up to the large blonde, who puts an arm around him. “Helped that I could hear you… I should stay missing forever, so you can avoid your responsibilities,” he comments.

“That’s one plan,” Tony acknowledges, “Though I don’t think the board will fall for that for long.” 

Pepper shakes her head at Tony with a smile, then turns her worried gaze on Bucky. “Are you feeling alright?”

“The pills make me sleepy,” Bucky says, smiling softly at her, “Don’t worry too much. The liquid stuff did the same thing, I’ve just been off it for a while. I don’t think I have a tolerance to it anymore.”

“Or Bruce made it stronger,” Steve says, digging around in his bag for the pill bottle. He extracts it and Tony leans over to examine the label with him. As he expected, it doesn’t have any labeling on it whatsoever, probably a repurposed bottle from Bruce’s own collection. It has a ‘B’ scribbled on the cap, and inside is a little rolled up paper telling Bucky to take two pills every five hours or so in Bruce’s neat handwriting. There is another bottle in the bag labeled with an ‘S’ with very similar looking pills.

“He’ll be happy to know they work so well,” Sam says, looking up from the book he has in his lap, “He was really worried about that, something about not knowing what’s going on with your metabolism and the serum.”

“I think the serum’s starting to work more,” Bucky comments lightly, “Barely got a bruise on me and my head doesn’t hurt. I think I had a concussion for a few hours at most… Most of the cuts are gone too.”

“You should get some more sleep. It’s probably helping,” Sam points out kindly. Bucky nods, mumbles something inaudible into Steve’s neck and then closes his eyes.

They all settle into an easy quiet after that. Tony extracts his tablet and begins puzzling out extremis for Pepper. Steve entertains himself by absently running his fingers through Bucky’s hair for a few minutes, and Tony watches the tender moment distractedly before he returns to his tablet again, head resting on Bucky’s curled legs. He catches Pepper smiling at them, but doesn’t let on that he noticed.

It only takes Tony an hour to crack the code on extremis. It’s almost sad to him. That they all went through so much trouble for it, that so many people died for it, that Maya and Trevor had to go to jail just for a couple additional lines to the equation. Fiddling around with it gets him thinking. He cracked the code with such ease, he has other problems related to himself that could use fixing.

Some would take skills that he doesn’t have. He can’t fix his nightmares or his flashbacks, no matter how many google searches he performs or how many degrees in the field of psychology he gets. He supposes he is broken in that way, but he can fix other parts of himself, physical parts.

The arc reactor is a modern marvel and a lifesaver, but it was meant to be temporary. It might be keeping the shrapnel out of his heart, but nobody knows the long term effects of having a giant hole filled with metal in your chest, mostly because nobody lives long term like that. He taps it thoughtfully, the blue glow shining through his shirt. He thinks about how it almost killed him a few years previous and about how none of the suits actually run on the power source from his chest anymore. 

He peers over Bucky’s thigh at Steve, the two of them nuzzled together while Bucky sleeps and Steve watches a movie on the television screen mounted above Pepper’s head. Even with the arc reactor, Tony knows he is living on borrowed time. One day the arc reactor will fail and there will be nothing to stop the shrapnel from reaching his heart. That day could be soon, or it could be a long ways away. He thought he had made peace with it, but now with the two men he shares his life with more intimately than he has with anyone before, he can’t help but feel discontent. Tony knows human bodies are faulty, especially his own, at his age, but the arc reactor compounds that risk. He wonders why he didn’t start thinking of a way to get rid of it. It may at one point have signified, as Pepper so slyly put it, that he did have a heart after all, but Tony is pretty sure that it’s obvious from the two men he has let into his life that he does. He doesn’t need that reminder anymore.

He pulls up a new file on his tablet and begins the brainstorming portion of it, pulling up scans of his own chest, locating the shrapnel floating precariously close to his heart. It shouldn’t be too hard, now that he thinks about it, to fix at least this part of himself.

While Tony is engrossed in his new project, Bucky drifts in and out of a light doze. With Tony distracted,  Steve and Sam proceed to baby Bucky to the extreme. Sam takes the role of nurse for Bucky in stride. He gets frustrated with Bucky’s stubborn attitude, but he remains patient. With Steve’s help, they manage to get Bucky to drink some water and eat something despite him wanting to simply sleep on Steve. About two hours into the flight and Bucky finally well cared for and asleep, Steve gets up, carefully shimmying Bucky’s head out of his lap and onto a cushion. Bucky grumbles, but doesn’t stir otherwise, content to continue napping. He makes his way to the bathroom, and Tony stands, following him not long after.

Sam eyes him as Tony makes his way past him, as if the man already knows what Tony’s intentions are. Really, Tony doesn’t have any specific goals, he is just bored, letting his brain take a break from the many projects swirling in his mind. Bucky is asleep, and Tony doesn’t want to force him to wake up purely to entertain Tony. Both Pepper and Sam are busy with their own stuff, so Steve is the only botherable one on the plane, not to mention he is the only one Tony really wants to bother.

When Steve gets out of the bathroom, smelling of liquid hand soap, Tony is waiting for him there, leaned against the wall. “Hey,” he says casually, walking up to meet Steve, “I’m bored.”

“You? Bored?” Steve asks, sounding incredulous, “I can hardly believe it.” The sarcasm is heavy in his voice, but Tony can see the ghost of a smile curving his lips.

“Yeah. I’d like you to help me out,” Tony propositions. Steve raises his eyebrows, curious. “Wanna follow me back here?” he asks nonchalantly.

As he grabs Steve’s hand and leads him to the plane’s compact kitchen, Tony wonders if he is being too subtle. He wonders if Steve needs something a little more direct. Regardless, he pauses to slide the little privacy door shut.

His questions are answered once he turns back around, greeted by Steve crowding up to him and pressing him into the door gently to kiss him. “Is this what you had in mind… Or did I misinterpret that?” Steve asks, lips brushing over Tony’s.

Tony lets out a breath. “You didn’t misinterpret it,” he agrees, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip. He meets Steve’s eyes, caught up in the intense blue, “We don’t need to do anything too much, but…” He runs his hands from the tops of Steve’s shoulders to his surprisingly narrow waist. “I wanted to… Spend some time with you… Without Sam and Pepper, and when we weren’t both exhausted,” he states.

One of Steve’s hands smooths Tony’s hair back, and the other rests on his waist. “I don’t think we can do much back here…” Steve says, “But I’m… I’m willing to… Explore…” He ducks his head shyly, ears slightly pink.

Tony pulls him forward into another kiss, licking into his mouth and encouraging Steve to do the same. Steve’s large hands grip Tony’s shirt as he loses himself to the kiss, hands wandering as he sucks on Tony’s tongue. Steve’s breath is coming in quick by the end of the heady kiss, hands a little more adventurous, though hesitant to touch Tony anywhere below the belt. His hands hover just above Tony’s rear, as if asking for permission. 

“You ever messed around like this before?” Tony asks breathlessly. One of his hands grip Steve’s bicep firmly, the other clutching at his waist. He hadn’t honestly expected Steve to rile him up so thoroughly, especially since this might be his first time, but he finds Steve’s inexperience endearing and his quick learning arousing.

Steve pulls back slightly to stare into Tony’s eyes, assessing him. “One time,” he says honestly, ears pinking, just as breathless as Tony, “During the war…”

“During the war?” Tony says, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. He knows Steve was quite a catch after the serum, even before the serum if you asked Tony, but he didn’t know Steve had taken advantage of that fact. “With who?” he can’t stop himself from asking.

Steve averts his eyes, frowning slightly. “I… I’ve been told it’s rude to kiss and tell,” he says bashfully, “It didn’t… it didn’t get much farther than just… touching. If you’re worried about that.”

“I’m really not,” Tony says, pulling Steve down into another kiss, “Just curious… You catch on fast.”

“This isn’t exactly my first kiss, Tony,” Steve says, though he doesn’t sound upset that Tony had asked, “I’m just… rusty.”

Tony grins, reaching down and running his hand over the curve of Steve’s ass lightly. “Then let’s get those old bones moving,” he says softly, reaching back behind himself, grabbing Steve’s hand and pressing it to his rear, “You can touch, you know that, right? Wherever you want to.”

Tony can feel Steve’s hand curve around his rear experimentally, fingers digging into the flesh ever so slightly. “Wherever?” Steve asks, completely genuine.

“Yup. I’m all yours,” Tony says, pressing himself back against the door.

“Good, because I want to touch you everywhere,” Steve says, his eyes honest and burning. He squeezes Tony’s ass firmly, pressing them closer together, his other hand coming to join the first. Tony moves his own attention to Steve’s neck, lavishing kisses up and down the column of pale skin, enjoying the feeling of Steve’s pulse under his tongue. Steve’s breath hitches and he tilts his neck for better access. Tony cups the base of his skull to accommodate the angle with one hand, the other running slowly up and down Steve’s back.

“I’m not... “ Steve cuts off with a shiver when Tony finds a relatively hidden spot under his collar to suck. “I’m not sure… where this goes after this…” he finishes honestly, hands resting on Tony’s ribs.

“Wherever you want it to,” Tony says against the skin of his neck, “We can stop here… we can do just this… or you can keep going…” He pulls away from his neck and looks up at Steve, fixing him with hooded eyes. “Wherever you want it to go… is where it’s going,” he finishes.

Steve looks down for a moment, seemingly gathering himself before looking back up at Tony. “I want to try something,” he says, “I want to… uh... “ he trails off for a moment, blushing, “I… uh…”

Tony waits patiently, though he knows that will not last for long. He is riled up, hot and bothered and ready to go, and Steve’s deliberating is only cute for so long. “You wanna demonstrate? On me?” he asks eagerly, “I’ll tell you if I’m not feeling it, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes widen, his pupils blown despite his nerves. “Uh!” he stammers for a moment, “I… Yes… I think that’d be easier, but Tony… The last person I did this with… was a she…” He looks away again, as if Tony would find that fact shameful. Tony puts the pieces together then, figures Steve got busy with Peggy. No wonder he is so nervous, if she is the only person he has touched and that was really all they did.

“Alright… so we’re working with different parts… doesn’t mean you can’t… show me,” Tony says easily, “I don’t have boobs, I hope that’s not a deal breaker.”

“Of course not!” Steve almost shouts, lowering his voice at the last minute. Steve looks back up at him, startled and embarrassed. “I just… I want some pointers… on how to make you feel good,” he says quietly.

Tony smiles softly. Steve is going to take some work, but Tony knew that from the beginning. “It’s not that hard,” he says comfortingly. He slowly, gently takes Steve’s hand and moves it towards his groin, allowing him plenty of leeway to pull away. It’s a risky move, considering how PG Steve is being, and Tony silently cheers when Steve actually takes initiative and presses his hand to Tony’s hardness. He hums softly, resisting the urge to grind into Steve’s hand.

“Well, something is,” Steve says, though not with his usual sass. He seems somewhat amazed by the fact that Tony is so turned on.

“Because of you,” Tony says honestly, smirking slightly, “Because you’re so damn hot, Steve. Just kissing you makes me feel good.” It feels like a childish sentiment, but he knows Steve needs it.

“M-me too,” Steve stutters. Then he groans and presses his head into Tony’s shoulder, hand moving away from Tony’s groin to rest on his hip. “I’m so stupid,” he says, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I find that hard to believe, considering the evidence,” Tony says flippantly, eyes glancing down to his own crotch and to the back of Steve’s head.

Steve mutters something into Tony’s shoulder. Tony turns his head to try and catch the tail end of whatever it was, but just barely misses it. “Wanna try that again? I couldn’t hear you,” he prompts gently.

“This is what happened last time,” Steve says quietly, not as muffled, but he won’t look at Tony, “She… she said that I probably wasn’t ready… Said that I didn’t have to and that we should pick it up again… after.”

Tony sighs, knowing that ‘after’ never came for Steve. “And you? Did you feel ready?” he asks, patting a hand down Steve’s back. 

“I was nervous… still am,” Steve tells him honestly, “But it wasn’t… it wasn’t like I didn’t want to… I just needed a little help. I didn’t exactly… think about these things, you know? I thought it’d all come naturally, and it didn’t.”

“Alright. We can work with that. As long as you want to,” Tony says, silently cheering that he hadn’t accidentally pushed Steve into a situation he wasn’t ready for, “A little bit of fantasizing beforehand doesn’t hurt, to be honest… Sometimes it’s good to have ideas.” He runs his hands through Steve’s hair, turning his head to kiss Steve’s neck. “Okay. I’m asking an honest question here, have you ever masturbated before?” he asks, as kindly as he can, trying not to let his curiosity show.

Steve presses his face harder into Tony’s shoulder. Tony can practically feel him heating up from embarrassment. “Yes,” he says, sounding mortified.

“Hey, look, no shame. Everyone does it,” Tony says, smiling fondly at Steve’s embarrassment. In some ways, Steve is absolutely everything Tony never expected and in others, he is exactly what Tony thought about when he thought ‘Captain America’ all those years before Steve was found. “I’m just asking, so we have something to work with,” he explains gently, “What were you thinking about when you did that?”

“You… Bucky… sometimes together,” Steve says haltingly, “I know I shouldn’t have, but I just… you two were…”

Tony shushes him. “That’s good,” he says to begin with, “Glad you were thinking about me and Bucky, and not someone else. That would’ve made this awkward. What’d you think about?”

“Tony…” Steve whines, embarrassed, attempting to burrow into Tony’s shoulder.

“This is an actual question, Steve!” Tony says, “Though I am curious what you were thinking about for my own… interests… I’m also trying to help you out here. If you tell me what you were thinking about, maybe we can work from there.”

Steve groans. “I don’t know… just you two… together,” he repeats, “… having sex.”

“And you weren’t involved at all?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow, “You didn’t think about making it a Steve sandwich?”

“Oh god, Tony, don’t call it a sandwich,” Steve says, exasperated, “No… I didn’t… insert… myself. I just… you two. That’s all I needed. It didn’t seem right to put myself in between you… since it’d never happen.”

“It’s happening now,” Tony assures, “Or at least as soon as we get home… Me and Bucky with you in the middle… or any combination, really. I can be persuaded.” Tony pulls Steve down to kiss him again. Steve goes hesitantly, but quickly melts into it. Tony moves his own hand to Steve’s fly, sliding his fingers along the hem of Steve’s pants, so the man can feel what he is doing. Steve doesn’t stop him, just presses him harder into the door, like he needs to trap Tony to get everything he wants from him. He chuckles into Steve’s mouth and pops the button to his pants.

He pulls away to look up at Steve. The man’s face is flushed pink and his blue eyes are dark, hair in a disarray. It is going to be very obvious what they were doing back here. “Tony…” Steve says in a breathless whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony assures him, “I just wanted to look at you.” He grins privately as Steve’s skin turns a darker shade of pink, if possible. Tony slips his hand into Steve’s pants, tracing his length with his fingers through his boxers. “This alright?” he asks with a coy look up at Steve.

“Yes,” Steve says firmly. He moves down to kiss Tony’s neck now, nuzzling the skin before giving him several open mouthed kisses. Tony shivers at the feeling of hot breath on his neck and nearly jumps out of his skin when Steve’s hand slips into his pants. Steve wasn’t kidding about wanting pointers. Tony has never cared about virginity, but he can certainly see the appeal with Steve. It is almost cute how he mimics Tony’s actions, how he tentatively reciprocates, like Tony isn’t going to like the same things he does to Steve. “You’re catching on,” Tony encourages as he grinds into Steve’s hand.

Steve cups him and rubs his hand up Tony’s length gently, avoiding chafing the delicate skin, even through the fabric. “You’re so…” he says, voice close to Tony’s ear, breath hot, “You’re so warm.”

“I was hoping you’d say ‘hot,’ but we can work on that,” Tony says with a cheeky grin. Steve’s teeth close on the shell of his ear and Tony shivers, one hand coming up to grip the front of his shirt.

“That too,” Steve says after a moment, nosing the soft skin behind Tony’s ear, “Was talking about down here.” He squeezes Tony purposely, but not too hard.

Tony groans and presses his hips upward into Steve’s hand. “More of that, please,” he requests. “Think we can change positions? I want try something too,” he suggests. Steve nods distantly, and then makes a startled noise as Tony pushes them backwards against the counter opposite the door. “Too bad there aren’t any chairs in here,” he says quietly, “Here, jump up on the counter. You’re not gonna break it.”

“I feel like you’re gonna try,” Steve comments, but complies, scooting so his back is pressed against the wall, leaving a small amount of space for Tony. Tony crawls up after him, situating himself on Steve’s lap, perched on his thighs.

“You know, it used to really irritate me that I was shorter than you,” Tony comments, squirming slightly, as Steve’s hands come to rest on his hips, “This isn’t too bad, though.” Steve rolls his eyes and huffs before pressing his mouth to Tony’s.

“You gonna keep talking?” Steve asks once he pulls away, cocking an eyebrow at Tony, “Or are you gonna do something?”

Tony looks away thoughtfully. “Mm… Probably a little bit of both,” he says with a cocky grin, “You know how much I like to run my mouth.”

“Wish you’d do something else with it,” Steve says, cupping Tony’s chin and running a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Oh, that’s dirty, Steve,” Tony says with a grin. Then he leans up and kisses Steve, purposely grinding his hips into Steve’s. Steve jumps at the feeling, hands coming up to grip Tony’s hips tightly again. Tony tilts his head and deepens the kiss while moving his hands over Steve’s muscular arms, and along his ribs. His fingers toy with the hem of Steve’s shirt before slipping underneath, coming into contact with Steve’s furnace-like skin. He sets up a rhythm rutting against Steve that the man quickly reciprocates.

He pulls away from the kiss, keeping his nose pressed lightly to Steve’s. “How’s this?” Tony asks. The fingers of one hand press lightly, but firmly into Steve’s pectoral, the other hand snakes lower down, thumb brushing over Steve’s abdominal muscles while his fingers press flat to the man’s stomach. The muscles under Tony’s hands jump in response, Steve huffing a breath and turning his head to press his nose to Tony’s neck.

“I think you know how it is,” Steve says waveringly, his own fingers slipping up Tony’s back to cup his neck. He presses another kiss to Tony’s lips, lighter this time, fingers slowly moving through Tony’s hair. “What about… me?” he asks, pulling away, cheeks flushed with more than just arousal, “Am I… doing okay?”

“Steve, babe,” Tony sighs. Halting his rhythm, he grabs Steve’s free hand from his waist and guides it to his crotch, pressing up into it. “I think you’re doing just fine,” he says, “But if you needed some proof, there you go.”

Unexpectedly, Steve’s free hand presses to Tony’s rear, scooting them ever closer. Steve leaves barely any room between them, not that Tony is complaining. His head fits snugly in the crook of Steve’s neck, giving him the opportunity to kiss along it, and his arms wrap around Steve easily. Between them, Steve’s hand grips him and rubs gently a few times. Tony bites down on the juncture between Steve’s neck and shoulder in startled retaliation, spreading his legs wider around Steve’s hips.

“This is going to start hurting without any… lubricant,” Steve says quietly, even as he thumbs the slit in Tony’s length, making his jerk his hips forward.

Tony chuckles. “I think I’d be okay with that,” he says, equally as quiet, something deep in his voice. Steve stops and Tony sighs. “Here,” Tony says, capturing Steve’s hand in his own. He leans back, and Steve’s free hand immediately braces his lower back to keep him from tumbling backwards. Tony brings Steve’s hand up to his mouth while Steve stares at him in confusion. The expression only grows more unsure as Tony closes his mouth around two of Steve’s digits, running his tongue between them. It is entertaining, watching Steve’s face morph from confusion to oddly aroused at the experience. Once his fingers are sufficiently wet, he releases them. “What? You said you wanted me to start using my mouth for something else,” Tony points out, even as he laves his tongue along Steve’s palm.

“I was thinking more of kissing, but…” Steve trails off as Tony dips his tongue in between two fingers, looking up at Steve coyly, “I don’t know how you can make that erotic.”

Tony shrugs. “Must just be me,” he says with a grin. He pecks Steve on the lips, before leaning back again, cocking his head. “That lubricated enough for you?” he asks cockily.

Steve examines his hand clinically. “I think it might work,” he says with narrowed eyes, “Only one way to find out.” His eyes flick from his hand to Tony’s length, peeking out of his open fly.

“Hell yes,” Tony says as Steve’s hand grips his length again, this time running much smoother over the skin. Tony plasters himself against Steve, toes curling as he opens his legs wider. Steve presses kisses to Tony’s temple and hairline, keeping a gentle, steady rhythm that drives Tony insane. 

“More, Steve,” he begs plaintively into Steve’s skin, “Come on… you’re just teasing me.” Tony’s hands begin fiddling with Steve’s pants again, trying to shove them down farther, so he can reach his length without impeding Steve’s own actions. It doesn’t work. They are too close together for both of them to have their hands at work, and Steve is single-minded and determined to pleasure Tony and completely ignore himself. Tony moans, pressing his nose behind Steve’s ear and gripping his bicep roughly. “Steve! Steve!” he calls breathily, “I wanna touch you too.”

“Oh,” Steve says, as if just realizing, pausing for a moment. There is a long silence while Steve tries to figure out the logistics of their position. 

Tony groans in frustration. “Usually I’m into edging, but that doesn’t work so great for quickies, Steve,” he says, not unkindly, “Here. I got this…” He leans back a little, and he catches sight of Steve’s expression. He looks nervous and a little worried, lip captured between his teeth and frowning. “You didn’t do anything wrong… far from it actually, but it takes two to tango, you know?” Tony says quickly to assure him, “I want you to feel good too.”

“I do,” Steve is quick to say.

Tony doesn’t deny him that, nodding in understanding. “Humor me,” he says with a small smile, “I think you’ll like this idea.” He waits for Steve to nod in agreement before he continues. He gently takes Steve’s dick, pressing it to his own. “You catch my drift?” he asks, looking into Steve’s face.

Steve catches on quickly, wrapping his hand around them both. Tony moans and falls forward against his chest at the warmth, hands scrabbling at Steve’s shirt. Steve lets out a harsh breath and presses Tony close as he begins to jack them off in earnest. “Good idea?” Tony asks breathlessly, hips jumping.

“Good… great idea,” Steve agrees emphatically, breath hot and heavy in Tony’s ear. He lets out a small moan as Tony’s thumb brushes over a nipple, and he nips at Steve’s pulsepoint. After this, it all goes rather quickly. Steve’s movements get faster and faster, more frantic, the friction eased by Tony’s spit and their own combined precome. Tony clings desperately, hands moving over Steve’s chest, arms and back, kneading muscles and encouraging him on with breathless moans and whispered curses. Steve comes first with a surprised yelp that he muffles in Tony’s shoulder as he curls over the smaller man, shivering, fingers tangled tightly in Tony’s shirt. That’s all it takes to send Tony over the edge as well, biting down on Steve’s shoulder enough to leave a bruise in the shape of his teeth. Once they’re finished, Steve basically deflates on to Tony, while Tony has to brace his heels on either side of the man to keep them from toppling off the counter.

“How was that?” Tony asks, a contented and self-assured smiles twisting his lips.

Steve stares at him for a long while, cheeks flushed a dark pink, dilated pupils sliding into focus under heavy lids. “Great,” he repeats, breathless and spent. He leans back against the wall, head back and exposing his neck. Tony takes immediate advantage, kissing under his jaw. “Did I… was I…?”

“Great,” Tony echoes before Steve can finish the sentence, “Can’t believe you have to ask that.”

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes belatedly, looking down at Tony shyly. It’s honestly ridiculous, considering his shirt is rucked up slightly, their combined come painting his stomach, pants undone with his limp dick resting against his jean-clad thigh.

“Don’t need to apologize. I just hope this clears some stuff up for you,” Tony says, “Steve Rogers, you are a natural. I am looking forward to a repeat performance… many repeat performances.” He stares up at Steve with false stoicism. 

“Right back at you,” Steve says, leaning forward and kissing Tony deeply.

Once he pulls away, Tony grins. “Good. Remember not to think so hard… sex is supposed to be with your amygdala, right? So just go with your gut feeling.”

Steve blinks at him for a moment. “It’s hard not to… considering who I’m trying to impress,” he points out.

Tony considers that. “How do you think I feel?” he asks with a smirk, “I’ve got two super soldier war heroes I gotta keep up with.”

“I’d say you’re doing just fine,” Steve says, returning his smirk. He squirms a bit, making an uncomfortable face as he runs a finger through the come painting his abdomen. “We should get cleaned up,” he says quietly.

“Agreed,” Tony says. He doesn’t lick the come off of Steve, figuring that can be saved for a time when Steve’s self-esteem isn’t riding on how well they have sex, when he isn’t comparing himself to Tony. It will take quite a few rounds before that happens, Tony thinks, and he looks forward to each one.

Instead, he reaches past Steve to a tissue box in the corner, gently cleaning his stomach and dick, tucking him tenderly into his pants. It is new for Tony, this gentleness, but he knows Steve needs it. It isn’t an unpleasant change. Tony likes being able to show this kind of affection, to be a bit more tender and caring. He figures this is the appeal of a long term relationship, intimacy for intimacy’s sake.

Steve reciprocates slowly, careful of Tony’s sensitive length. While Steve could probably go another round, Tony is done for a few hours at least. They readjust each other’s clothing slowly and wash up to the best of their abilities with the kitchen’s tiny sink.  “I like this too,” Steve says suddenly, carefully buttoning Tony’s pants. When Tony looks up from Steve’s hands, Steve flushes lightly.

“Just you wait until we have sex in an actual bed,” Tony says, placing his hands over Steve’s, “Post-coital cuddles are the best.”

This seems to encourage Steve a little more, and he smiles at Tony genuinely. “I’m looking forward to it… with Bucky too,” he says.

Tony laughs, reaching up to try and tame Steve’s hair. It cooperates a lot better than his own. Once his gets mussed, it’s basically a lost cause. “Speaking of, we should probably go check on him. See if he’s still sleeping…” he says. He spares a moment to check his watch, “And we will probably be landing in an hour and a half or so… might be able to catch an inflight movie,” he adds.

Steve looks thoughtful. “I think we’re doing this backwards,” he says, out of the blue. Tony looks over to him, for once, confused. “Aren’t we supposed to get dinner, then a movie, then have sex… isn’t that how that works?” he says. There is a small smile tugging at his lips that Tony can see clearly.

“Eh. We’re anything but traditional,” Tony says with a shrug, “If you want a real date, I’m sure Bucky and I could swing something.”

“I’d like that,” Steve says, “I want to spend time with you both… together. Now that we can.” As if to punctuate it, he grabs Tony’s hand right as he opens the privacy door. When they enter, Pepper doesn’t look up from where she is working on her Stark Tab, but Tony can make out a small, knowing smile on her lips. Sam just looks at them flatly.

“I guess it was too much to hope that the both of you could keep it in your pants for the whole flight,” he says, staring straight at Steve.

“Sam!” Steve says, abashed, while Tony just snickers.

“I guess you don’t know me very well, yet. Don’t worry, you’ll learn,” Tony says, grinning. Sam wrinkles his nose.

On the adjacent couch, Bucky snorts. “Come here,” he calls, reaching out for Steve who looks even more bashful than when Sam had pointed out what they had been doing in the first place, “I’m cold.”

“You’re gross,” Sam corrects, staring at him in open disgust, “You think you’re being cute?”

“I think he’s cute,” Tony says, and Sam huffs, “Sorry about that, babe… we would’ve invited you, but you were napping.” He settles down on the couch and Bucky tosses his legs haphazardly over his lap, while Steve dutifully becomes his pillow again.

“You’ll just have to tell me about it,” Bucky says, leering over at Tony and winking. Sam gags and Steve flushes. “Not right now, but later… when we’re alone,” he clarifies. He looks up at Steve and smiles at him.

“You are all disgusting,” Sam says, in that flat voice. It isn’t harsh though.

“You think we’re cute,” Tony corrects, stretching forward and grabbing his Starktab.

“Oh, I think you’re something.”

Nothing else is said to confirm or deny that fact, mostly because Tony starts another movie up on the mounted screens on the plane, but also because Sam knows it’s true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me on [Tumblr](http://kasisnotofimport.tumblr.com/) and yell at me to get the next chapter written already


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